Waiting for Absolution
by flute-genevive
Summary: Love is all fun and games until someone loses an eye or gets pregnant - Jim Cole. Post-BD, Emily discovers that she is unexpectedly expecting. No pregnancy is ever the same, and Emily's is no exception. Sam/Emily. Rewrite.
1. Week 7

_December, 12th, 2008_

I knew that Sam was worried about me.

I stayed home yesterday from my waitressing job in the little diner downtown, lounging around in his plaid boxers and almost consuming an entire box of Frosted Flakes before collapsing on the couch. Our big plastic popcorn bowl lay in front of me, taunting the nausea.

This morning, Sam glared at me when I rolled out of bed, queasy, and called in sick again. He offered to stay home with me, or come home early to check up on me, but I insisted that I would be fine.

After all, I had a pretty good idea what was wrong, I just didn't know what to do about it. More importantly, I didn't know what he would want me to do about it.

Two weeks ago, I began watching the calendar very carefully, counting the days since the last little red dot in the corner next to the date. Now, two weeks later, I was still counting. I knew that I should take a test, but living on a rez made things difficult. I couldn't just walk to the drugstore and pick one up, and I didn't know very many women who would be willing to pick one up for me.

Finally, after arguing with myself for another twenty minutes, deciding that I needed to be sure before I actually decided anything, and forcing myself off the couch - pressing a hand to my stomach to quell the nausea of moving, I dialed my mother.

"Emily?" She sounded surprised.

"Hey, Mom." My voice sounded weary, and I wondered if Sam had noticed this morning.

"What's wrong?" My mother picked up on the weariness right away. Mothers - they always know. Would I always know? Was I going to be a mother?

"Emily?"

Shaking my head to rid it of the annoying rhetorical questions, I answered her. "Can you come down for the day?" She lived on another rez, the Makah, about two hours from La Push.

Her voice got softer as she moved the phone away from her face to hang up. "Sure thing. I'm leaving right now."

"Wait! Mom!"

"What?" she asked, louder.

I took a deep breath. The desperate need for acceptance made my voice shake. "Could you, maybe, bring a pregnancy test?"

There was silence on the other end of the line, and I froze for a minute. What was she going say?

"Sure." The line clicked, and I released a giant sigh of relief. At least she wasn't going to yell. That was a step in the right direction.

Actually, I wasn't sure what anyone was going to say about my suspected big news, Sam especially. That was the main reason why I hadn't done anything about it yet. If I found out that I was...pregnant...I would have to tell Sam, and I wasn't sure what he was going to do.

We weren't married yet (I wasn't sure we'd ever be) and we hadn't talked about children, at all.

We were always careful, always. But, there was a certain night, three weeks ago, when it didn't work out as we planned. The protection was no longer protective by the end of the night.

I was scared, beyond terrified. What if Sam didn't want this baby? What if Sam didn't want _me _after I told him? He certainly seemed to be committed, and I was positive that he loved me, but I just wasn't sure that it would be enough to keep him around. What if the responsibility was too much for him? He liked his freedom, and a having a baby was anything but free.

***

My mother arrived at the house in full control mode, the car tires rumbling over the gravel and the front door swinging open moments later. She practically threw a bottle of water at me when she got inside.

"Start drinking," she commanded, bustling into the kitchen and doing all the chores I had neglected that morning. "How do you feel?"

"Strange." I said, curling up on the couch again, after slowly retrieving the bottle that had bounced off the arm of the couch and onto the floor.

"I meant physically." She began to load the dishwasher.

"So did I."

I threw the blanket over me, and tucked my legs under.

"Strange? Not queasy or tired?" she asked, sounding somewhat hopeful.

"No, I feel sick and tired, too." I tried to explain the annoying feeling in my fingers and toes. I wanted to lay down and sleep for hours, but at the same time, I wanted to move around. "I feel weird, and anxious."

The hopeful face went away. "Okay." My mother picked up a towel to dry a pan. "How late are you?"

I was surprised at how casual she was. "A little over three weeks." I rolled over on the couch, trying to get comfortable and took another swig of water. "Mom?"

"Hmm?" She was bent over, putting something under the shelf in the pantry.

"Is it okay to be scared?" I plopped my head down on the arm cushion.

She straightened, and was by my side in a second. "Yes, sweetie, it's okay to be afraid." She could see my eyes well up with tears. "Have you talked to Sam?"

I shook my head. She looked like she was about to say something, but patted my shoulders instead and pulled the blanket tighter around me. "Why don't you try to sleep? You're probably exhausted."

"I am, but... "

"I'll take care of the housework."

"Mom!"

"This way you don't have to think about the waiting."

I rolled my eyes. "All I've been doing is waiting – for three weeks!"

"Emily, dear." She gave me a stern, maternal, don't-fight-me-this-is-for-your-own-good look.

"Fine! I'll sleep."

I turned over, pressing my face into the corner of the couch with a huff. Crossing my arms underneath me, I closed my heavy lids and let her distracted humming lull my mind into a quiet calm. It was easy to let sleep take me, easy because I wanted to get away. The eventual deep darkness swept me away before I could notice a change.

Sam was there, and as the darkness began to lighten, I could see that he was holding me.

His hand ran down my scars, searing them with warmth. He leaned in, over my stomach, to press a kiss to my lips. Something tasted like salt. Was he crying?

"Bye, Em. Take care. I love you."

It wasn't him; I was the one who was crying. I was whimpering, pleading with him. "Don't go, please."

The roaring in my ears pulled me away from the scene…

…my mother had begun to vacuum. I sat up, looking for Sam, panting, checking my stomach for a bump I wouldn't find. From a quick look at the clock, I could see that I had been asleep for almost 2 hours. I rubbed my eyes.

I felt an overwhelming urge to go to the bathroom as soon as the original grogginess faded. I bit my lip, and shuffled over to pick the drugstore tests off the counter. My mother didn't say anything; I briefly wondered if I had spoken out in the midst of my dream.

After following the directions and emptying my bladder onto the tests, I pulled up the boxers, and sat on the closed toilet seat until they were done. I looked at the plastic tests, all clearly adorned with a pink plus sign, resting on the counter. They seemed too important to throw out, but also too disgusting to keep. I left them on the countertop.

My mother was waiting outside the door, the vacuum still in her hand, as I came out of the bathroom. I nodded, and was almost barreled over as she ran to hug me.

"Congratulations!" She clutched me to her, and I found that I was crying, because when we separated there were tearstains on her shoulders. "Emily, you're going to be a great mother."

Pulling away, she immediately began listing things I would need. I smiled widely, glad to have her here with me.

***

She had returned from a jaunt to the grocery store, and was handing me a chalky white pre-natal vitamin and a glass of juice when Sam came home.

He saw me take the pill and rushed to my side. "Emily!" As his arms wrapped around me, he kissed my scars, my hair, and lastly, my lips. "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," I protested against his warm, bare chest.

He pulled my face back to look up at him. "You called your mother." He kissed me again. "You didn't have to. I would have stayed home with you. I would have been with you."

He was distraught, and I was quickly beginning to cry. I could taste the salt on my lips, and I was immediately reminded of my dream. Was it a premonition? That type of phenomenon wasn't unheard of.

There are some dreams you don't want to come true. What would I ever do when he left?

"Oh, Emily," he wiped at my tears, "Don't cry, darling." Sam practically carried me to the couch as my mother silently backed out of the room.

"I'm okay," I insisted, as he tucked the blanket around me.

"What did you take?" He looked around for medicine, but found none. Most of the groceries had already been put away.

"It was nothing, Sam. I'm fine."

"Emily," he took my hand in his, "Tell me."

I couldn't make my mouth move. He waited, then eventually sighed and straightened, squeezing my hand.

"I'll make you some tea, okay? I'll be right back." He left, and I struggled to calm down.

The gas stove came on with a rush, and the kettle rocked back and forth as it heated. I heard his footsteps go around the corner, but I didn't realize where he was heading until the bathroom door clicked shut. I considered yelling to stop him, but then he was outside again, throwing the door into the wall so hard that it cracked. He was there, in front of my face, holding one of the plus signs and waving it around.

"Emily," his eyes were wide, and deep. I tried to focus on them. "What is this?"

I didn't answer.

"Are you - ?" He couldn't get the words out. I wondered if this was a bad sign. I had to do something! I couldn't let him leave.

"I'm so sorry! Sam! I know that we didn't talk about this," I rushed, as his face got more and more incredulous. "I don't know what to do, and I'm scared, and I-"

"You're pregnant?" He caught my face in his hands. "With my baby?"

I nodded, my whole body trembling. I don't think I had ever been so alarmed in my life.

He kissed me, his lips crashing into mine, and picked me up from the couch. Clutching me to his chest as he spun around in a wide circle, he cried, "Oh, Emily! Oh, God!"

I blinked rapidly, confused by his reaction. "Sam?" He was still spinning me. "Put me down!"

"Sorry!" He set me down lightly. "Emily! That's…oh! wonderful doesn't even cover it."

"You're happy?" I searched his face for emotion.

Sam stopped and questioned, "Why wouldn't I be?"

I burst into tears again. "I was sure you were going to be upset. I mean, we aren't married yet, and we hadn't talked about kids, and there isn't a lot of money, I know, and -"

He interrupted my sentence, pressing me against his chest as he kissed my lips roughly. "Emily Young. What in the world would make you think that I wouldn't want this baby?"

"But the timing is horrible," I said, wondering if he didn't understand what a baby meant. Less money, less freedom, settling down, and becoming fully responsible adults.

"The timing isn't important." He touched his hand to my stomach, where I knew a little baby was growing. "I would be the happiest man in the world if you would have my baby."

I threw my arms around his neck and sobbed uncontrollably. "You're not going to leave?"

"You thought I would leave my pregnant fiancée, by herself?" He stroked my hair, following it all the way down my back. "No, Emily. I'm not going to leave."

"We're going to have a baby," I gasped out between sobs.

"A baby," Sam repeated.

I heard the door close as my mother let herself out.

"How long?" he asked, still holding me.

I didn't understand. "What?"

"How long have you been worried about this?"

I blushed. All my fears seemed so stupid now. "Two weeks."

"Honey," he rubbed my back, "I'm so sorry."

I waved it off, still blushing and crying, but with a ridiculously wide smile on my face.

"What were you taking? That pill, earlier."

"Pre-natal vitamins; my mother bought them," I explained.

The teakettle whistled violently. We broke apart, both of us laughing and me still wiping tears from my face.

"We should make you a doctor's appointment," Sam said as I made my way to the stove and poured myself a cup of tea.

"My mom already did. She was great."

"Why did you call her?" he asked, pulling out a chair for me to sit on at the table.

"I needed to take a test," I started. "I had been counting the days since I realized I was a week late, and I was starting to feel sick."

"Sick?" Sam was worried again. The endearing furrow between his brows had returned. It was nice to know that he would be looking out for me now.

"Like morning-sickness kind of sick, hence the popcorn bowl." I motioned to the coffee table, where the bowl was still residing. Sam nodded, and I continued. "But I couldn't just buy a test at the drugstore, and Leah, well; I couldn't involve her in that. So I called my mom."

"You could've just told me. I hate that you were worrying about this all by yourself."

I hugged him. "It's okay now."

Sam kissed the top of my head, and then took a gulp of my tea.

I didn't know what to say to him, so I put my head on his shoulder and we stayed like that.

"You're going to be a great dad," I said, finally.

"You're going to be the perfect mom," he countered.

I scrunched up my nose in protest of his declaration, but Sam refused to let me say anything else. Instead, he settled me on the couch with the tea, wrapped a long arm around my shoulders and kissed the skin above my ear.

"I love you, Emily."

I swallowed the hot tea in my mouth, and answered, "I love you too, Sam."

It wasn't much, but it was all we could give, and it would have to be enough for now.


	2. Week 8

_**This isn't my favorite chapter out of the bunch, but if you make it through, I promise it gets better!**_

_**Disclaimer: Not Stephenie Meyer & I don't own Twilight. **_

* * *

_**December, 15th, 2008 - week 8**_

The day of my first doctor's appointment started private, but soon began to resemble a public circus.

Sam shook me gently awake, bribing me with the smell of freshly brewed coffee to pull me out of bed at ten o'clock. My stomach churned, but stayed slight enough that I was never sick. I dressed nicely, knowing that we would be making a side trip to Sam's mother's house on the way home to break the good news to her. The whole experience, from the car ride there, to the endless questions from my obstetrician, seemed surreal. Sam and I were nowhere near ready for a baby, and part of me was still insisting that it was all some big misunderstanding. I half-expected the doctor to tell me I was crazy and send me home.

This, however, was not the case. I was pregnant. _We_ were pregnant. Sam and I. Dr. Echler, my obstetrician, confirmed that I was a little less than two months pregnant and my due date was August 4th. Thirty-two weeks from now, I - _we _- would have a baby.

The first visit was overwhelming, to say the very least, but it was a joyful experience. The doctor hadn't found any problems, though she warned me to refrain from consuming too much junk food when Sam told her I had a sweet tooth. Still, she asked a ton of questions about our families medical history, my sexual history, and my immunizations. She did blood work to check for HIV and other STD's, as well as regular things like anemia and Rh status. We asked about having an ultrasound, but she assured us that we would get to see the baby at the next visit.

"Congratulations to both of you, and if you have any questions, just call." Dr. Echler shook Sam's hand, wrapped me in a hug and waved us out the door. When we finally made it to the parking lot - dazed and smiling widely - Sam and I came to a rather abrupt stop. My mother was leaning against her car on the other side of the parking lot, a thick bag of books in her hand.

"How'd it go?" she called, still halfway across the parking lot.

I looked up at Sam and clutched his arm for moral support. "My mother is here? All the way from the Makah rez?"

His grin fell from his face, so at least I knew that he wasn't in on it. Sam knew better than to surprise me like this, when I was so overtired and stressed as I already was.

I faced my mother and reached out my hand to take hers as she made her way across the lot. She was practically bouncing up and down with anticipation.

"Is everything alright?" she shrieked excitedly, not lowering her voice even though she was much closer than last time.

"Everything is perfect," Sam assured her, patting my hand that was wrapped around his arm. "She's due the fourth of August."

My mother's clapped a hand over her mouth. "That is so wonderful." She touched my stomach with just the tips of her fingers. I would have to get used to that. I had a feeling it was going to happen often in the next seven months. "So wonderful."

"Thanks." I plastered a grin on my face. "But we should go, Mom," I said, imploring her with my eyes not to fuss about this. "We were just going to see Sam's mom. You can meet us back at the house if you want, for lunch."

"Oh, I'll go with you!" She fell into step behind Sam and next to me, tagging along a on trip on which she hadn't been invited. "It's been so long since Hannah and I had a good talk."

And, like the good daughter I am, I couldn't find the guts to tell her to go home, because this was going to be an Uley family thing. Instead, I smiled and said, "Sure, Mom. That sounds great."

She got back in her car and followed us out of the office and down the street.

Once we were alone again, Sam's toothy grin revealed itself. He picked up my hand and held it in his warm one. He started to say something, but then closed his mouth.

Worried that it might have been something important I began, "Sam-" but then trailed off as I couldn't think of anything to say. There was almost too much to say, too many emotions, and if we started, they would all come rushing out, choking us on years of suppressed insecurities. I was excited, grateful, nervous and terrified all in the same moment. How was I supposed to live like this? Unsure of Sam's feelings, as well as my own.

He turned at the sound of my voice calling his name, and his deep eyes fixed themselves seriously on mine. He dropped my hand, and put his on my womb instead. He opened his mouth again, but then we arrived at his mother's home, and stopped again. We'd have to save this talk for later.

I sighed as I got out of the car. Hannah was sitting outside, on her porch, wrapped in a thick parka and smoking a cigarette. She saw us and quickly put it out under her heel. She was still trying to hide her relapse from Sam and me.

"Hello! Hello!" She waved, as Sam ran over, unnecessarily, to help me from the car. "Emily, darling, and Sam! How are you?"

"We're great, Hannah, thanks." I leaned in to kiss her cheek, kicking the butt of the cigarette deeper into the snow bank with the toe of my boot.

"We have some news for you, Mom." Sam dropped my hand to envelope his mother in a hug. He was nearly two feet taller than she was; her head rested well below his collarbone.

"Only good, I hope." She released Sam and pulled me into her arms, kissing the top of my head. I wondered if she would have done the same if she knew that I was carrying her son's child out of wedlock. I hoped so, but a nagging corner of my mind reminded me that the rez still functioned on traditions, and that it applied to more than just stories.

My mother's old truck pulled up in the driveway behind us, and she hopped out, still bouncing. She quickly put a finger over her lips, but was grinning from ear to ear as she walked toward the porch.

"Jennifer! What a surprise!" Hannah exclaimed, as they embraced. She opened her door and ushered us inside. "Come on inside! It's cold out here." Hannah turned toward my mom as we made our way to the door, "What is all of this about?"

Mom smirked and shook her head. "Sorry, Hannah, I'm here to provide moral support, not bring the news."

I sighed, relieved that my mom could keep a secret for a few minutes, and Sam put a hot hand on my back, guiding me through the door.

"Are you sure that this is good news?" Hannah laughed, eying Sam's protective hand on my back. I detected a bit of cynicism in her voice. My stomach began to flutter, as I got more nervous.

"Oh, it is," my mother promised.

I cringed. What if Hannah hated me for this? What if she thought that keeping the baby was a stupid idea? I'm was sure that she would think we were too young to take on this kind of responsibility.

I tugged on Sam's arm, whispering into his ear when he leaned down. "Can we talk, for a second? Before we tell her?"

His eyebrows furrowed. "Sure, Em." He led me into the kitchen, while our moms continued by the kitchen and into the living room, where they were sure to dive into the town gossip. "We'll be right there!" he called, "I'm just going to get Emily some water."

I was starting to tremble nervously as Sam put his arms around me.

"What's wrong, honey?"

I could feel my body quaking against his - for once I was the one shaking.

"We can't tell her this right now," I pleaded, trying desperately to stay in control of my dialogue while my mind spiraled into places of rejection and fear.

"What do you mean?"

"What if she hates me for this? What if she thinks we were being stupid, and that we can't take care of this baby? What if she refuses to see us - you - anymore?"

Sam pulled me closer against his chest, chuckling assuredly at my frantic questioning. "She won't think any of those things, Emily. She loves you, just as much as she loves me." In the safe cradle of his arms, my lungs found the strength to fill completely, and a small layer of calm floated over my senses.

I shook my head, not entirely convinced, but the dazed calm left my contradiction weak. "What if she does disagree?"

"I want this baby, Emily." He kissed my head, the warmth leaving a searing spot on top of my hair. "I love this baby. I'll stand up for this baby." He was so confident, so strong. I felt meager by comparison.

I let out a single, gasping sob. "She would be right, Sam. I'm not ready for this. I'm too young, I have no idea what it means to take care of somebody else, how to change a diaper or feed a baby! I'll kill the poor kid before I even know what's happening!"

He rubbed my back, soothingly. "Emily, you have eight months to get ready for those things, and my mom can help." He smiled down at me, still outrageously confident. "She is not going to attack you. She is going to be excited to have a grandchild."

I was jealous of his calm demeanor. "You have to tell her. I can't." I leaned back against the support of his arms.

"I'll tell her," Sam compromised, but he accompanied it with a stern condition. "We need to talk about this. But not right now," he amended, seeing a look of apprehension cross my face, "not in my mother's kitchen."

I grimaced, but agreed, "I know."

"We have to go tell my mother now." His voice and eyes softened, but his statement offered no leeway.

My stomach churned. I didn't doubt the decision I had made, and I wasn't going to let anyone talk me out of it, but I didn't have the strength that Sam did. I had very little self-confidence, I was already the disfigured girl; did I have to be the girl who gets pregnant just to keep her man now as well? His mother was going to think I seduced him or something, twisted his beliefs to get what I wanted. What really terrified me was that maybe, when everything in our relationship wasn't easy and perfect, Sam would recognize that the people were right. He would leave me, and all I would have of him would be the tiny baby in my arms. I couldn't raise a child on my own!

I kept my mouth shut, forcing myself to calm down for a few minutes and be sociable. We could have time to talk later, although I wasn't sure how much good it was going to do. Right now, Sam wanted to tell his mother the news, and he deserved to have me there. I forced a small smile onto my face. Sam kept his arm around my waist, and kissed my cheek.

"Let's go," Sam prodded. With the hand that wasn't around my waist, he gripped my hand. "It'll be fine."

I nodded, resisting the urge to turn and run away.

Hannah and my mother were chatting away on the couch when Sam and I walked in. There was only the chair left, so Sam and I had a silent, tense exchange in which he prompted me to sit down, and I proceeded to stand awkwardly by the arm of the chair until he rolled his eyes and fell into the plush cushion. I stepped back and focused on my feet, still standing next to the chair.

"So, what's going on?" Hannah turned to face us, the lines in her forehead more prominent. She always knew when Sam was hiding something.

Sam looked at me, and I glared right back at him. He cleared his throat. "Well, Mom, we got some good news the other day."

Hearing for a third time that the news was good, Hannah relaxed and the lines on her forehead dissipated. "Well, what is it?" She looked between the two of us, eagerly. A hint of a smile played at the corners of her mouth.

Sam unleashed the smile from the doctor's office and car. He radiated exuberance and joy. "Emily is pregnant."

Hannah's eyes flew directly to my face, which was burning with a blush, and the hint of a smile grew larger. "Really?"

I licked my dry lips before I spoke, relieved at her first reaction. "I just found out three days ago. We went to the doctor this morning."

"When are you due?" She was beginning to bounce, just like my mother. The muscles in my shoulders relaxed, releasing the tension in my neck.

Sam answered for me, "The fourth of August."

I could see her counting quickly in her head. "August! So you're already two months along! Oh, Emily! That's great, I'm so happy for you." Hannah jumped off the seat, offering her congratulations while my mother beamed proudly in the corner.

I was shocked at her reaction. My whole body froze, hardly responding as Hannah pulled me into a tight hug. She was squealing babbled words of happiness and plans for the future, but I was looking over her shoulder at Sam, who was grinning widely at the scene, and my head was off in another world. I guessed this meant that she wasn't angry, but the prospect of being welcomed was still having trouble getting through my head. Other people would certainly not respond this way.

"I know that your mother lives two hours away, so if you ever need help with anything, call me." Hannah's words in my ear finally pulled me from my contemplative stupor. I beamed at her and wrapped my arms around her back, returning the hug.

Sam poked my back, discreetly, trying to say _I told you so_.

"Thank you, that is so sweet." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Everything was okay, for now. I had panicked for nothing.

Hannah insisted that we eat with her, and ordered that I stay on the couch with Sam while she and Mom made lunch. Sam leaned against the arm of the couch, kicking his feet up on the cushions and making a space for me in between his legs. I relaxed against his chest, the hazy realization from a few moments ago still clouding my thought processes, and he ran his fingers through my hair.

He placed his lips next to my ear. "You looked stunned, darling." He said it with a smile, but there was biting truth to his statement. I _was_ stunned; stunned that Hannah had accepted us so quickly. I didn't know what to make of it. Maybe I was over-thinking this. When I didn't say anything in reply, Sam prodded further, "What's wrong?"

The tears immediately threatened to fall. I hated those. I never cried before I got pregnant, and now it seemed I was crying every other second. Damn these hormones. "People are going to say things, Sam." My voice was scratchy and rough from the tears; it wavered with the complexity with the feelings and the responsibility of expressing them.

"Does it matter to you, what they say?" Sam kissed my cheek, right next to my scars. He was being so loving, so gentle, but I wanted him to just listen to me. I couldn't think when he kissed me.

I turned around, using the back of the couch as leverage, and looked Sam in the eye. "I'm not strong enough to listen to it." I wished it was a lie, I wished I was stronger, like Sam, but I wasn't. I would have to hide in my room for the rest of my pregnancy.

"Emily, you are - " Sam started, but I cut him off desperately.

"They already call me a monster, Sam. I don't think I can handle being a slut, too." I covered my face with my hands, turning away from him.

Sam stared at me, speechless.

"I don't have the self-esteem that you do. I can't hold my head up when I'm being insulted." I wrung my hands together, looking down. Unspoken was the thought that I couldn't even couldn't even imagine what I would do if he believed what they would say.

He was the poster-boy for the council! People would be furious with him for "setting a bad example" for the younger children. He would get a lot of angry parents and elders, who would tell him that he had made a terrible mistake.

"Are you..." his voice came out as a choked whisper, "are you ashamed of us?" His voice was thick and trembling. Was he crying? Was Sam crying?

I hated that he even thought that way. "No, Sam, I don't think what we did was wrong, that this baby is wrong. I want your baby." I turned around, leaning in to brush my lips against his cheeks, where he was blinking furiously to keep the tears from falling.

"I just..." I sighed, not knowing how to express what I felt. There wasn't a name for it. "I want approval. Trival, I know, but it pertains to the baby as well. I don't want people to always talk about our child as illegitimate or unwanted. I want this baby to be a source of excitement and not gossip."

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Then...what can I do to make it better? I can't stop people from talking, Em."

"But you can! We can!" I almost shouted, and then hurried to shut my mouth. I hadn't meant to voice this particular solution.

"And how can I do that?" He put his hand up to my face, imploring me gently with his eyes. He knew he was going to have to coax it out of me now.

I shook my head. He wouldn't like this idea. If we hadn't talked about it yet, then he couldn't be planning to follow through anytime soon. And it didn't matter, really. I supposed that as long as he loved me, I could get through. His love would always be enough. Still, the fact that he had never elaborated on his proposal made me think that he didn't favor the commitment attached to marriage. Maybe he thought imprinting was enough.

"Emily, you need to tell me." Sam held my face in both of his hands.

"It's stupid." I averted my eyes, looking at the corner of the room, where a plastic tree lived in its bed of twisted fake grass. I didn't want to see his gaze.

"Don't hide things from me." He sounded hurt, and it killed my resolve.

He was making me feel guilty, mostly because he wasn't trying to. He was always so genuine; it broke my heart to disappoint him. I mumbled my secret idea, "Marry me."

Sam reached a finger under my chin to pull my gaze up to match his. "What was that?"

I squared my shoulders, prepared to say it loud and clear, but at the last second I dropped my head and the words came out as a murmur again, "Marry me."

He didn't make me say it again. Picking up my hand, Sam pointed out my ring. "I already promised I would. We're already engaged, Emily."

I never used to snap at people, let alone at Sam, but I lost it. Maybe it was those damn hormones again, or the fact that I knew the next eight months were not going to be as easy as Sam thought. I wailed, "We've been engaged for almost three years, Sam! Are you ever going to really marry me, or are you just going to let me have an illegitimate child?"

"Is that all you want? You want us to get married?" Sam pulled my hands away from my face, and I saw that both of our mothers had heard my little outburst and had stuck their heads out of the kitchen to watch. "Is this really all about commitment, Emily, because I think you know that I'm already committed. Is there something else?"

There was nothing else. If he married me, if we announced a date for the wedding - especially if we told everyone we had decided on a date before I was pregnant - they could hardly say the things they might if we were only still engaged. Sam would still have the respect of the council and the elders, and my baby would be welcomed into the tribe. I would have the assurance that he was mine, once and for all.

"What do you mean, something else? If you've changed your mind and you don't want to marry me, then just tell me Sam!" I touched my scars without thinking about it, "If you'd rather not commit to me in a normal, human way, don't keep stringing me along." I cringed, praying that I hadn't gone too far.

"What the hell are you talking about Emily?" Sam ran a hand through his hair, annoyed. "Of course I want to marry you. I proposed, didn't I?"

"Well, yes...but that was the end of that discussion and three years later we haven't done anything!" I countered defensively.

"So...you thought I had changed my mind?" Sam sighed, and then ran a hand over his buzzed hair.

It wasn't that I thought he had changed his mind, exactly. It was that I wasn't sure he had really intended to have a wedding when he proposed all those years ago. He already considered himself bound to me, and an engagement was a title to tell people, an indicator to the rest of the world that we were together. Maybe he didn't think that a ceremony was necessary. I knew that he loved me, but he didn't wear my ring, and it bothered me.

He stared at me for a while, and then pulled me into a deep kiss. His lips moved against me, his tongue caressing mine. I hoped our mothers weren't still watching. He broke the kiss and we leaned against each other, panting. I was still waiting for his answer, though the kiss had been a good indicator. "I love you. We can get married whenever you want."

My face lit up, despite the fact that I was still slightly angry. "Really? You mean it? Whenever I want?"

He laughed, "Yes, whenever you want."

I pictured the wedding I had always dreamed of - a small, white chapel in June. The colors would be bright, and the sun would be high in the sky. I wanted an afternoon wedding. Then, something occurred to me and I frowned.

"What is it now?" Sam prodded, worried that he had started off a new rant.

"I'll be fat by June!" I complained, "I'll be huge!"

"You won't be fat, darling, you'll be round with my baby. And I'll love it," Sam encouraged.

Hannah couldn't help but to add, "I can make a beautiful maternity gown!"

My mother jumped in also, "But we had better get started with reserving a venue if we only have seven months. "

Sam kissed me again, and whispered in my ear, "We're getting married."

I sighed in relief at the words. He wasn't afraid of commitment, our baby wouldn't be labeled as unwanted, or a mistake, Sam could continue his work in the tribe; my prayers had been answered. There were obvious issues that hadn't been resolved yet, but we were making progress. "We're getting married." I beamed, echoing him in a whisper.

&&&

After lunch, Hannah and my mother invited themselves over to our little house, in order to help me start planning the wedding. Sam and I had barely even made it to the car when Leah drove by. I smiled and waved, and she stopped the car and hopped out.

"Hey guys!" she called cheerfully. Our relationship wasn't as close as it used to be, but it was in repair and we were back on good terms. She understood the situation better after she had turned as well, and there was less tension now that she was in Jake's pack and not constantly reading Sam's thoughts.

I pulled away from Sam to give Leah a giant hug. "Our wedding is going to be in June, will you still be my bridesmaid?"

"Of course! I'd love to." She kissed my cheek, and then asked, "Why June?"

I glanced at Sam, suddenly nervous again. I had hoped that the news wouldn't ruin any progress Leah and I had made within the last few months. Having her mad at me was something I couldn't bear.

"Em is pregnant," he told her quickly.

Leah's face twisted excruciatingly for a brief moment, but she quickly ran a hand through her hair and forced a smile. I knew that this was hard for her, not only because of the past she shared with Sam, but also because of her infertility. I appreciated her efforts to be happy for me. "That is fantastic, Emily. Congratulations."

Hannah saw Leah and called out, "Are you coming to help us plan the wedding, dear?"

Leah glanced at me and I could see the pain that lingered there. I understood, and whispered, "You don't have to."

She smiled softly, and then, shaking her head, called back, "Sorry, Mrs. Uley, but I have lots to do at home." I hugged her again, accepting another whispered congratulations, and waved her on her way. I wasn't upset, in fact, the exchange turned out better than I thought it would.

I climbed in the passenger's seat of the car, and Sam started out of the driveway. Naturally, we didn't make it very far. Mrs. Atera stopped us to ask why I was at the doctor's this morning, and Sam told her. She wanted to catch up with my mother, so she joined the caravan to our house as well. Following Mrs. Atera was Ms. Call, as well as Jared, Kim and Embry.

Ms. Call was a former wedding planner, and offered to make a list of things I would need to do, as well as use some of her connections to get us discounts.

Embry called Paul to tell him where they all were, Paul called Quil, who then called Jake, and soon both of the packs were in my backyard, throwing around a football while their mothers and imprints helped me call churches and banquet halls.

All day long it was a mix of wedding plans, none of which got very far. By the end of it, I had a list of venues to explore before choosing one, and the only church on the rez was booked for May 22nd.

I rubbed my eyes sleepily as Sam ushered the rest of the guests out the door. I had no idea how I was going to make it until August.


	3. Week 14

_**Things are picking up with Sam and Emily! Enjoy this chapter, it's one of my personal favorites!**_

_**Disclaimer: Not SM & I don't own Twilight**_

* * *

_**February 2, 2009 - week 14**_

The alarm went off, blaring the radio as I pulled the pillow over my head and sank into the blankets.

"Sam!" I groaned, turning over and hitting him on the shoulder. "Sam!" The alarm wasn't supposed to wake me up, too. I wanted my sleep in the morning.

He jumped out of bed, letting a gust of cold air seep under the covers. "Sorry, I'm sorry. I forgot to turn it down."

Sam shuffled over to the dresser, where I had placed the alarm to make sure he got up in the morning, and flicked it off. "I have to leave, but try to go back to sleep."

"Right," I sighed, flipping over again. "That's going to happen."

"I really am sorry, Em." He leaned down and kissed me, as if that would make it all better.

I kissed him back automatically. "I know, I know."

He pulled away, brushing my cheek with his rough, warm hand, and left to jump in the shower. He was off to the store; he had a delivery of mulch to make early this morning. I only worked afternoons at the local bookstore, so I was entitled to a few more hours of sleep that I desperately needed.

The months flew by faster than I cold have imagined. Considering all the sleeping I did nowadays, it's not surprising that time had passed by me so quickly.

I was near the end of my third month of pregnancy, which meant that I felt like I had the flu every waking minute of the day, had heartburn that felt like my whole chest was on fire and, more than anything else, I was exhausted. I slept until nine in the morning most days, and then napped when I returned home at six. Sam made his own dinner now, and the pack tended to stay away on weekdays. Leah and Mrs. Clearwater stopped by whenever they could, asking if they could do anything to help, and my mother called every other day. Everyone was doing the most they could to make this a joyful time for me, but I was hopelessly cranky.

Twenty minutes and zero sleep later, I turned over again, and my stomach flipped with me. I lurched up in bed, flinging off the blankets, and stumbling to the bathroom. Sam was standing in his boxers at the sink.

"Move!" I rasped, and he slid over to let me through.

"Emily? You okay?" He hurried behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders as I leaned over the toilet and was horribly sick.

I brushed my teeth afterwards, and washed my face. "I'm fine, sorry."

Sam stroked my hair when he passed by to find his clothes. "Don't apologize."

I followed him out of the bathroom and collapsed onto the bed again, pulling the blankets over me and curling up inside them. I couldn't sleep without being overly warm, a side effect of sleeping next to Sam for three years.

I closed my eyes, wishing for a miracle that would allow me to sleep for a little longer, but it didn't come. I groaned each time I looked at the clock, finally hauling myself out of bed at eight, and getting to the chores.

The laundry for the two of us wasn't much, especially considering the time that Sam spent without a shirt on, but when I looked up, it was close to nine. I found myself with an hour that I didn't usually have, and knowing that Sam had eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the last few evenings, I made a casserole and put it in the freezer for dinner. After cleaning up the kitchen, I showered for work.

Thankfully, I made it through my shift without another nausea episode. Prior to my pregnancy, I had worked the coffee counter in the small bookstore, but recently the smell of hot milk and cinnamon was making me gag. The manager had graciously let me swap places with the register girl, so my trips to the bathroom were less frequent now.

All I could think about when I got home was how lovely it would feel to lay down on the couch with a blanket and the TV on in the background as I slept. Hurrying to reach my goal of sleep, I sorted through laundry in the basket and placed it in piles on the bed as I put it away. I had the radio on and was singing along, touching my swelling stomach every so often as I swayed back and forth to the music.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, surprising me. I dropped the pile of clothes in my hand back onto the bed. "Coming!" I called, and hurried to get the door.

Leah was there, a stack of paper invitations in hand, and smiling. "Hey, Emily. Sam said you would be home."

I waved her inside. "How are you today, Leah? Anything new?"

"Invitations. I brought twenty samples that match your colors, and I thought you could look them over." She passed me the pile of papers, all varying shades of purple and green.

I headed over to the couch, sitting and tucking my legs beneath me. "Come and sit with me." I flipped through the pile, pulling out a few that I thought had potential.

She crossed the kitchen and entered the living room, folding herself onto the open side of the couch and looking at the pile of invitations I was setting aside. "That one is my favorite." She pointed to a lavender and sage combination, with deep violet type and a simple font. I picked it up again, holding it in the light.

"I like this one, too," I mused, putting that one down and pulling out another invitation from the pile. It was essentially the same colors, but there was a dried, pressed purple flower under the text, which was green instead of violet. "Can I ask Sam and get back to you?"

"Yeah, that's fine. Whatever you want. Do you need the rest of these?" She motioned toward the other samples.

I shook my head. "All those pastels would make Sam cringe. Better that I only show him what he needs to see."

We both laughed, the atmosphere relaxing a bit and both of us lounging back into the soft cushions of the couch. "How is everyone?" I asked, "I haven't seen them in awhile."

"Oh, well, Jake spends most of his time with the Cullens and Nessie, as you can imagine. You should see her, Emily, she looks like a six year old already. She is growing so fast." Leah extended her hand about three and a half feet off the ground, in an example of Nessie's height. "Jake tries to spend as much time with her as possible. He and Quil bring the girls together for playdates sometimes, you know?"

I thought of Nessie and Claire together, how adorable they would be. "We should talk to the boys about getting them to be my flower girls. They would be so cute."

Leah agreed, "Claire absolutely loves Nessie, I'm sure she'd be happy."

We fell into easy conversation, Leah commenting on how Seth was slacking off in school, and me offering to have Sam straighten him out, chatting about the wedding and our mothers - Leah even asked about the baby and how it felt to be pregnant. It felt wonderful to have my old friend back, and I was grateful that she seemed able to put the past behind us. We always had so much fun together, joking and laughing; I hated not having her in my life.

When my eyelids drooped and I let out a yawn, Leah giggled. "Maybe I should go and let you take a nap." She got off the couch and moved to collect her things, slipping on her shoes and shoving the rest of the invitations in her purse to take home.

"Thanks for coming over with the invitations, Leah, you've been such a help!" I called, staying on the couch and pulling a blanket over my feet.

"Don't worry about it. Get some rest, and I'll see you later this week!" She waved and then let herself out, closing the door behind her. As soon as she was gone, I let my head rest on the arm of the couch and curled into a ball. The comfort and warmth soon lulled me to sleep.

My eyes flew open, unfocused and hazy, when the door closed again. The first thing they landed on was the clock; it was almost eleven. I sat up slowly, brushing hair out of my eyes and stretching my arms.

"Sam? Is that you?" I asked, still groggy and finding it hard to shake the sleepy haze. My heart was beating incredibly fast, probably from the quick wake up.

Stepping out of the kitchen, Sam made his way to the couch. "Hey, Em. I was trying not to wake you." He reached out to brush more hair off my forehead, but paused. "You're kind of... clammy... are you feeling okay?"

I scowled. "I'm feeling fine." I threw off the blanket and wiggled my legs off the couch, standing slowly. "I made dinner for you, it's in the freezer. I'll go heat some up." I was a little lightheaded, and my legs were shaky. I stumbled, almost falling to my knees, but Sam caught me.

"Emily?" Sam sounded concerned.

"I'm fine!" I snapped, shaking his arm off. "Go sit down."

He sighed, and rigidly sat in my place on the couch, still watching me out of the corner of his eye. I moved into the kitchen, pulling a plate out of the cabinet. I scooped a heap of cold casserole onto the plate and placed in the microwave. I leaned against the counter, still feeling weak and shaky, and watched the plate revolve.

My stomach rumbled when the microwave pinged; I reached out my hand to open the door and realized that it was shaking. I could feel my knees buckling, and my upper body was slipping off the counter almost as if in slow motion. I hit the floor with a hard thud, my head slamming into the wooden cabinet, making a terrifying cracking noise.

My vision went blurry, and Sam was a looming blob as he rushed to my side, having heard my collapse from the other room.

"Emily! What's wrong?" He cradled me in his arms, turning me so that my sore head was in the crook of his elbow. "What can I do, Em?"

I blinked until I could see him clearly. His eyes were full of worry and terror, one of his hands moved to rest against the bump on my stomach. I coughed to clear my throat. "Call Dr. Echler," I instructed. I had to be stay calm, I reminded myself. Freaking out wouldn't help anything.

Sam jumped up, grabbing the phone off the hook and hurrying to sit back at my side. He dialed quickly, having to hang up a few times because his large fingers hit extra buttons. Finally, I heard the other line ring. Someone picked up after two rings, and Sam spoke frantically. "My pregnant wife just collapsed, is there anyone I can talk to?"

"14 weeks along. No, she is awake... hold on," he shot me a worried look, "Em, are you bleeding?"

Not trusting myself to stand, I unzipped my pants and touched the outside of my underwear. Finding them dry, I shook my head, relieved. "No, I'm not bleeding."

"She's not bleeding... well," he had a calculating expression on his face, "she was clammy a few minutes ago, her hands are shaking..." Sam stopped and a calm expression came over his face. He pulled the phone away from his ear and asked me, "When was the last time you ate something, Em?"

Realization dawned. I hadn't eaten since before work this morning. I meant to eat something when I got home, but then Leah came over and I fell asleep. I felt unbelievably stupid and irresponsible.

Sam must have recognized the guilty look on my face, because he confirmed to the phone, "That's it. She hasn't eaten." He listened to a few instructions, and then thanked the person and hung up.

I didn't meet his gaze. Sighing, he got me a glass of Kool-aid from the fridge and pulled the plate of casserole from the microwave. Handing me a fork, he sat down next to me and watched me eat. When I was finished, he took the dishes and put them in the sink. Then, scooping me up in his arms, he carried me over to the couch and set me down.

"They want you to come in for the night, they'll do some tests, just to make sure everything with the baby is okay, and that you're alright." He sounded harsh, and a little angry.

"Sam," I began, but he cut me off.

"We can talk in the car, Em." He held up my coat, allowing me to slip my arms into it with ease, and slid my slippers on my feet. Then, taking his wallet and car keys, he picked me up and carried me out to the car. I could feel anger in his tense arms, and all I could think of was how badly I had messed up, and that it could have possibly cost my baby's life.

When we were driving down the empty road, lights on bright and silence dominating the car, he finally said, "Let's talk, Em."

I had been formulating several different openings in my head, and they all tried to come out at once. "I'm so sorry, and I know that's not enough - to be sorry - but I really am and I feel really stupid and I just hope the baby's okay and I'm sorry, and I don't think I can do this, Sam!"

He turned his head in shock, mouth slightly open, and ran a hand over his short hair. "Emily, it's okay, the baby is going to be okay, and you're safe. That's all that matters."

Upon hearing his gracious words, the floodgate of tears opened and I was suddenly sniffling. "I was s-so s-stupid, Sam. I just totally f-forgot to eat." I continued through the onslaught of tears and guilt, "and Leah w-was over, and we were finally t-talking, and then I fell as-sleep and I forgot. I'm sorry!"

He reached over and put his arm around me, letting me lean into his wide shoulder. "It's okay, Em. Dr. Echler just wants to do some extra tests, to be positive that it was just hypoglycemia."

I wailed into the seam of his shirt. "I'm g-going to be a t-terrible mother!"

Sam shook his head fervently, driving carefully through the dark night. "That's not true, Em. This little incident is no indication of how you're going to do as a mother. You're going to be fantastic." He gave my shoulders a squeeze, as if to reassure me, but I was stubbornly refusing to believe him. "Em, you're stressed out. You're tired. I understand."

The thing was, he didn't understand. He couldn't, as much as he wanted to. This was something that I had to do by myself, and it scared the hell out of me. I had never done something this hard by myself before. This baby was mine, and would always be mine. For the rest of our lives, we would be attached to each other. That kind of permanence was frightening.

I opened my mouth to try and convey some of these feelings to Sam, but stopped myself. He wouldn't understand what I meant by the baby being mine, because, of course, it was also ours. But the knowledge that someone - a little person - was growing inside of me gave me a feeling of possession. I would know this child better than anyone else ever would, because we had shared a body.

I closed my eyes, breathing in Sam's scent, and waited until we arrived at the hospital to open them again. Sam was gazing down at me, reading my eyes for clues to my feelings, but he didn't say anything, either.

I stepped out of the car on my own, not waiting for Sam to carry me, but he stuck me in a wheelchair anyway. He wheeled me through the doors of the building before telling me to stay put as he ran out to park the car. In minutes, he had returned, and we were headed off to the obstetrician's wing.

Leaving me by one of the chairs in the waiting room, Sam spoke softly to the woman at the counter. She handed him a pile of papers, and then came around the counter and began to push me away through the doors.

"Wait," I protested, looking back at Sam, who was also confused. "I want him to come with me."

The woman - Ginger, according to her name tag - tried to placate me with a smile. "I'm sorry, Miss Young, but he'll have to wait here until he finishes those forms. In the meantime, Dr. Echler wants to get started on some blood work." She continued to roll me away from the waiting room and towards the tall, grey doors. I put a hand down on the wheel to stop the chair.

"Are you sure he can't come with me? I don't like needles." I thought about this nurse poking me with a thin, silver stick, sucking out my blood into a small vial, and shuddered.

She kept the smile plastered on her face and shook her head. It was an odd combination. "No, say your goodbyes now."

Sam hurried over, captured my face in his hands, kissed me softly and said, "I'll be there soon, everything will be fine, you'll see." I pressed my lips together, nodding half-heartedly.

Ginger rolled me away as soon as Sam stepped out of her path, her shoes clicking ominously on the tiled floor.

&&&

The further I got away from Sam, the more worked up I became. Ginger was either very unobservant, or just trying not to interrupt my wallowing, because she said nothing as my breathing quickened and my eyes began to prick. When we arrived at the station for the blood work, an older, blonde nurse helped me out of the chair and into another one.

"Hello," she paused to check my chart, "Emily. How are you?"

I sniffled, a tear or two escaping my eye. "I hate needles." I eyed the needle on the small desk next to the chair warily.

She laughed; the sound was too loud for the small room. "Just don't think about it, and you'll be alright." She snapped on gloves, and I looked away as she tied a ribbon of rubber cord around the top of my arm. It pulled uncomfortably at my skin, hurting as it dug into the flesh there. Ginger was standing idly by the doorway, her arms and legs crossed casually. I looked at her plain white shoes while the other nurse told me to squeeze my hand into a fist and began to feel around my elbow.

"This will hurt a little, only for a moment."

I closed my eyes and held my breath. I felt the needle poke my skin, and keep going. At first, it was only a pinching feeling, but then it got worse and began to burn. I whimpered. Where was Sam?

"Oops! I missed. We'll have to try that again." She pulled the needle back out, and more tears leaked down my face.

By the third time she had tried to draw my blood, I was beginning to sob. Ginger kept passively smiling from the doorway while the other nurse apologized again and again. When she had finally sucked out three tiny vials of dark red blood, I was passed back to Ginger, who proceeded to roll me back down the hallway toward the waiting room.

Thinking Sam was going to be out there, I stifled my tears and wiped at my eyes, tried to smile and let him know that I was "going to be okay." Yet, when she pushed the doors open and wheeled me out into the room, it was empty. Left alone, scared, and in pain, the tears began all over again.

This time, Ginger looked patronizingly down at me and snipped, "Now, now, stop that crying."

Not meaning to be a bother, I bit down on my lip and held back the sobs. I didn't know where Sam had gone, but I hoped that he knew where I was headed so he could find me there. I asked shyly, "Did someone tell my fiancé where to go?"

She patted my shoulder as she pushed me into an elevator with another nurse holding the door. "I'm sure they did, sweetie, he's probably in your room right now."

I tried to calm myself, repeating in my head that they were the professionals, they knew what they were doing, don't question them. The door opened with a ping, and I was promptly pushed down a hall with painted balloons on the walls, and big paper flowers on the windows. Ginger opened the door, pushing me into a brightly lit room, filled with three other women and a thousand beeping machines.

"Get into that bed," Ginger instructed, pointing to the last bed on the left, "and I'll get a nurse to come and hook you up." She snapped her gum, left the chair by the foot of the bed, and disappeared out the door.

It only took me a moment to realize that Sam wasn't here. In fact, of all the women in the room, only one had a man sitting at her bedside. He was reading a sports magazine and looking up at the TV screen every few seconds. I sighed, and pulled my body out of the chair, putting a hand on the bed to steady myself. As soon as I wiggled my way under the thin blanket, a male nurse came bustling in.

"Emily Young?" he yelled into the room, looking at each woman's face. I raised my hand timidly, and he strode over to my bed, humming to himself as he attached an IV to my hand. I looked up at the ceiling to distract myself, but the pinch of the needle made me gasp.

"You alright, miss?" he asked, not looking at me, but instead, at my chart. He muttered something under his breath, and didn't listen to my response.

Finally, when he had started the IV, he turned to me. "Anything I can get you?"

I frowned, "No." He moved to walk away, but I continued. "But you sure as hell can answer a few questions."

He stopped and turned on his heel, facing me again. "Yes?"

I pointed to the IV, "What is this stuff?"

"Just a sugar solution, miss. You've been admitted because you collapsed due to low blood sugar, am I correct?" he chuckled.

"What tests are they running on my blood?"

He sighed, and looked at the chart in his hand. "Well, they hadn't done any screenings yet, so they're running both of those, and some glucose tests for the hypoglycemia... it's all pretty routine." He shrugged.

That didn't explain much to me, but I was more concerned about where Sam was. "Did anyone tell my fiancé where to find me?"

"Who knows? It's pretty busy here tonight." He was bluntly honest, and it made me angry.

I crossed my arms. "And when am I going to see Dr. Echler?"

He got defensive, holding my chart in front of his chest. Now, the whole room was watching our exchange. "Look, I have no idea. Like I said, it's busy here tonight and she has a lot of patients to see - most of whom have more pressing problems than low blood sugar. You'll see her as soon as she has a minute." He turned and stormed out of the room, leaving me stunned, and my eyes brimming with stinging tears.

I tried to relax into the bed, but it was hard and awkwardly positioned so that I couldn't rest my head. I also had to pee pretty badly, but was hooked up to the damn IV. I watched TV for awhile, but after thirty minutes of bouncing my legs up and down to control my bladder, I pushed the call button for the nurse.

Ten minutes later, the man showed up again, looking pissed. He glared at me icily. "Yes?"

I glared right back. "I have to go to the bathroom. Do you think you could untether me from this machine," I motioned toward the IV, "so I can pee?"

I heard the girl in the section next to me snort softly. I smiled, glad that someone found me amusing.

He grinned, "Sorry, but the IV has to go with you." He waited while I heaved myself out of the bed, and lowered my feet to the ground. Pushing the cart with the IV toward me, he pointed out the small door across the room. "Bathroom is that way."

I looked from him to the door, sighed, and slowly made my way across the floor. He was gone when I came back out, so I pushed the IV over to my bed, and crawled in, pressing my face into the lumpy pillow.

However, it seemed like an impossible place to get rest, because a few moments later, Dr. Echler blew in, lab coat fluttering behind her and pushing sleeves up to her elbows.

"Good morning, Emily. How is it that no one has you changed into a gown yet?" She tossed me a hospital gown and thrust shut the curtain around my section. "Get into that, please."

Confused for a minute, I kicked off my shoes and hurriedly unbuttoned my pants, pulling my IV uncomfortably in the process. Yanking off my shirt, I left my bra and panties on, and struggled to tie the strings in the back of the gown. I barely had time to bundle my clothes up on the table next to the bed before Dr. Echler had ripped open the curtain once again.

I noticed that she was drying her hands, and slipping on gloves. I raised my eyebrows in question.

"I am going to check your cervix, dear, just to make sure that your little episode did cause any problems. Because you're not bleeding, it's probably just me being overly cautious, but I'm going to check anyway. Lay back, please." She had a clipped, professional tone, and I didn't want to question her so I laid back before remembering that I still had my underwear on and sat up to shimmy those off as well. I placed them in the pile of clothes on the table.

She closed the curtain around my bed again, and asked me to place my feet in the stirrups on the bed. I looked up at the ceiling, trying to ignore her prodding. While I was otherwise focused, I heard the door of the room crash open.

"Emily?" Sam's voice boomed through the room.

Overjoyed, I called back, "I'm in here!"

I could hear his footsteps coming closer to my bed, but they stopped just outside the curtain.

"Sorry, sir, you can't go in there just yet." The male nurse said, stopping Sam in his path to me.

"Look, man," Sam started, his voice now thick with power and anger, "I have been led all over this damn hospital for the last hour, wondering where my fiancée was, and I find her and you're going to tell me that I can't see her?"

"Sam!" I exclaimed, but Dr. Echler shushed me from between my legs, as she continued to examine me.

"Emily, can I come in?" Sam asked, from behind the curtain.

"Of course."

The nurse protested, but Sam slipped around the fabric anyway, his eyes going wide with shock and fear when he saw my current position. "Emily, are you alright?"

The tears that I had managed to quell for the time being exploded all over again. "Oh, Sam, I was wondering where you were. I needed you."

He took one long step to reach my bed side, and picked up both my hands, being extra gentle with the one that had a needle stuck in it. "I'm here now."

Dr. Echler finally stood up, removing her gloves and throwing them away. "Everything looks fine. I'll look over the test results when they come back in a few hours and we'll talk more in the morning, okay?" She wasn't unkind, but obviously rushed and stressed.

I nodded, my eyes still locked with Sam's. She flung open the curtain, and left the room without another word.

Sam leaned down to kiss me. "Thank God I found you, Em. They had me going all over the place." He stroked my hair, caressing my scalp with his thumbs. "You needed me? Are you feeling better?"

"The nurse who drew my blood couldn't hit the vein - she stabbed me four times! And then they told me you would be here, but you weren't, and the IV burns, and the nurse is being horrible, and - Sam - I can't do this." I shook my head vigorously. "This whole place terrifies me."

Sam settled onto my bedside, still holding my hands. "It's only for one night, Em. Stay strong for me."

"I hate this. These people make me feel so... small." I tried to express my discomfort: the way the nurses treated me like a child, how Dr. Echler examined me without asking what I wanted, the nurse giving me medication without telling me what it was. "I feel powerless."

"You know," the woman in the section next to mine spoke up, leaning her head around the curtain separating us, "a lot of women feel the same way you do. You should think about a home birth."

Instantly, I was hit with various imagined scenarios, all including some crazy midwife who would insist that all the knots in the house be untied and feed me a home-brewed, sludgy concoction to speed the labor. "A what?"

The woman grinned warmly. "A home birth. I know it sounds scary now, but I promise that if you look into it, you won't be disappointed. It gives you so much more control over every aspect of your pregnancy and labor - it's wonderful. I did it with my first child, and I'm doing it again with this one."

"Is it safe?" Sam asked skeptically, always one to be concerned about my well-being.

She nodded. "As long as you have a good midwife who knows what they're doing, and are having a healthy pregnancy, there's no need to be in a hospital. In fact, hospitals can complicate the birth process. Do some research when you go home; it will astound you." She spoke so passionately about the subject, she immediately drew my attention. What she was describing sounded worth some thought.

"Okay, I'll think about it and do some research when I get home, thank you!" I beamed gratefully at her, glad that others had similar thoughts and feelings. I could tell from the look on Sam's face that he wasn't completely convinced, but when he saw my smile, he bit his tongue and let me enjoy the moment.

"You're very welcome." The woman lay back in her bed.

I lowered my voice and spoke quietly with Sam. "It deserves consideration, don't you think?"

"A home birth, Em? It sounds dangerous to me."

"Can we at least think about it? Not count it out just yet?" I asked, hopefully. "I think it sounds kind of nice."

Sam gave an exasperated sigh. "Sure, Em. Whatever you want. Can you try and get some sleep now, please? It's late."

"Thank you!" I squealed. Content in my victory, I snuggled into the bed, turning over so that I could put my head in Sam's lap.

He laughed, the throaty sound coming from deep in his chest. "Wait, wait, if you're going to sleep like that, I'm going to have to get more comfortable." He lifted me up and slid himself onto the bed, his bulky frame making the bed look tiny. When he had shifted around a few times, he put me back down between his legs, so that I could rest my head on his stomach. He wrapped his arms around my stomach, his hand splayed over our baby. He rubbed my stomach slowly and softly, and soon I was letting the hospital slip away, succumbing to sleep.

&&&

"Please, she's sleeping. Let her sleep," Sam hissed, under his breath. I fluttered my eyelids and stretched out my legs. "Never mind, I guess. You woke her up."

I lifted my head slowly. "Sam?" My eyes squinted against the harsh lights. "What time is it?"

Another voice answered my question. "It's 5:28 in the morning, and Dr. Echler needs to talk to you about your blood work." It was the male nurse again. I had never learned his name.

"Shit," Sam swore under his breath.

I sat straight up, yanking on the IV cord in my hand. "OW! Um..." I rubbed my hand, trying to soothe the hurt, and simultaneously process what he had said. "Is there something wrong?"

The man shrugged. "It seems like they found some elevated levels of something."

I tried to get off the bed, but I was trapped by Sam's legs. "What do I need to do?"

"Go down the hall to an exam room." He pointed in the general direction.

Sam put his hands on my shoulders, holding me in place as he slid off the bed. Then, he offered me his hand and helped me off as well. "Where are we going?"

"Follow me, please." He led us to a room down the hall to the right, and told me to get up on the bed, and that the doctor would be with us shortly.

Sam sat uncomfortably in a little plastic chair next to my bed, and wrung his hands. We both were worrying about the baby, we just worried in silence. I noticed the ultrasound equipment in the room and commented, "If they do an ultrasound today, they'll be able to tell the sex of the baby. Do you want to know?"

Sam's face brightened. "Of course I want to know!" Then, he paused and asked, "Don't you?"

"Yes!" I was never one for surprises, and I wanted to know as much about the baby as I could before he or she was born. I wanted to get to know this little person inside me as soon as I could.

"Okay then, we agree." Sam chuckled.

Dr. Echler knocked once before opening the door and stepping inside. She looked worn and tired as she examined my chart and papers in front of her. "Hello, Emily and Sam. We have some things to discuss this morning."

"Is there something wrong with my baby?" I blurted out.

She took off her glasses, and sat on the stool by the desk. "Well, we don't know that for sure just yet. You are showing elevated levels of AFP, which suggests an abnormality with the pregnancy, but your levels of hCG and PAPP-A are normal, so the abnormality is not a chromosomal one."

Sam's voice was heavy as he asked the question I couldn't get out. "So, what is it?"

Dr. Echler was honest. "I don't know yet, but that's why the ultrasound equipment is here. We're going to take a look before we make any assumptions."

I swallowed and nodded, willing to do whatever she wanted. I don't think that I had ever been so vulnerable. Not only was something wrong, but Sam and I were helpless, clueless and afraid.

Dr. Echler leaned out the door to call for a technician, and Sam leaned forward to grasp my hand. He stood, came over to my side, and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Whatever happens, we're going to do it together, okay?"

I leaned into his chest, my eyes closed against him. I inhaled, letting his scent calm me. "I love you," I whispered.

He wrapped his arms around me for a moment, pulling me tighter. "Love you, too."

&&&

"Sorry, this is a little cold." The nurse spread blue gel across the bump in my stomach. She dragged the wand around, and as she moved it, grey images crackled across the screen.

The nurse peered at the screen intently. "You're okay, Emily." Sam whispered in my ear, seated in that chair that was too small for him, and clutched the arm rest so hard that his fingers were turning white.

The picture on the screen fluttered and swished. Finally, it came to rest and the swishing remained steady. Yet, if this was the heartbeat of my baby, it sounded wrong. It was too fast. And some of the beats... overlapped.

"Well, will you look at that?" Dr. Echler exclaimed. "This is why we do ultrasounds."

I tensed, and looked over at Sam desperately. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing's wrong! In fact, it's good news." The nurse turned back toward us, the intense look on her face replaced by a grin.

Sam leaned forward, eager. "My baby's healthy?"

"Yes, sir, your babies are perfect." She grinned.

I choked up. "Babies? As in..."

Sam finished my sentence. "Two? There are two?"

The nurse nodded. "You're having twins."

"T-Twins?" Sam stuttered. "Boys or girls?"

"How far along are you?" She asked, and I wiped my eyes dry.

"Fourteen weeks," I half sobbed, half laughed.

She moved the wand around a few more times, and the image moved. "Well, let me look here."

"Did you hear that, Emily?" Sam leaned over and pressed kisses to my face. "There are two beautiful babies in there."

Dr. Echler explained, "The elevated levels of AFP were caused by the two fetuses. More babies mean more protein. Congratulations, both of you."

Suddenly, the nurse exclaimed, "Girl! Baby 1 is a girl!"

"You are so amazing. You are the most amazing person." Sam reached behind my head and lifted me to his face, kissing me wondrously.

I gasped against his mouth. "I love you, too, Sam."

"Oohh! Another girl!" I could hear the nurse making her discovery, but I was still kissing Sam. When he finally pulled away, the nurse was blushing a deep red. "Would you like a picture of your girls?"

"Yes! Yes, please," I said. "I want a picture."

Sam laughed, and held my shoulders while the nurse wiped the goo off my stomach. He rolled down my shirt when she was done, and then picked me up and spun me around, which made me nauseated all over again.

I danced around after he put me down, because I hadn't gone to the bathroom in hours. Dr. Echler took out my IV, saying, "I'm going to send you to see a nutritionist before you leave this morning," she checked her watch, "she should be here in the next two hours. No more of this low sugar crap, okay Emily? I want you eating six to eight healthy meals a day." She looked sternly at Sam. "I expect you to help remind her of what's healthy."

Sam laughed and agreed.

"Alright then, congratulations and I'll see you soon!" She whirled out of the door and moved on down the hall.

I hurried down the hall to the bathroom, and them Sam and I went back to the small bed we had spent the night in. He got in first, and then I crawled in on top of him, sitting the way we had when I slept.

"Twin girls," I muttered. "I'm having twin girls."

Sam kissed my head, smoothing my hair back. "We'd better tell my mother to make that dress bigger," he said, jokingly.

I groaned, but with a giant smile on my face, and smacked his arm.


	4. Week 17

_**This chapter is busy, but it's all good - less drama than the last one!**_

_**Disclaimer: Not SM & I don't own Twilight**_

* * *

February 26th , 2009 - Week 17

Sam hopped out of bed at some ungodly hour, kissed me on the cheek and told me he was leaving for the hardware store. He was good friends with the man who ran it, and I guess he was going in early to ask about some things for the nursery. I simply grunted, rolled over and went back to sleep.

I awoke when he came back in, closing the door a little too loudly. I was sitting up, stretching and rubbing my eyes, when he came rushing to show me the colors we had picked. They were also the colors we had chosen for our wedding, we felt like the two were connected. The purple was more of a lavender this time, and the green was a muted sage. He would whitewash the furniture, as we wanted the room to be bright and airy.

"Good afternoon, Em," he joked.

"Shut up. I did not sleep that late." I looked over to check the clock. "It's only ten!"

He waved his hand dismissively. "All the same."

I dragged myself out from under the warm blankets, and kissed him. "Do you have to leave, now?" He only had a few deliveries today, but he still had to go in to work.

"Yes, but I'll be home early this afternoon. I want to get started on painting the room." He held me close to his chest, and we stayed like that for a few, long seconds. "I love you," he whispered into my hair.

I sighed, melting into his warm arms. We were going to make such a loving family - Sam, myself and the girls. I was glad to know that they would never want for love. "I love you too, Sam."

We released each other, walked down the hall holding hands and then Sam kissed me once more before he left.

I made myself lunch, humming along to a song playing from the radio on the kitchen counter, and proceeded to get ready for work. I left a batch of cookies on the table with a post-it note when I left, wishing Sam a happy afternoon of painting.

&&&

When I returned at six, Hannah was there, leaning against the doorframe of the nursery and sipping a glass of water. I hurried over to greet her.

"Wow!" She leaned in to wrap me in a hug. "Darling, you look good."

I put one hand on my stomach, feeling a bit insecure as my stomach pressed between us. "I'm getting bigger."

She laughed, and putting her hand over mine, said, "You ain't seen nothing yet, those two are going to get huge."

I rolled my eyes. "Looking forward to it."

She grinned at my sarcasm. "Don't worry, honey, you're absolutely glowing, and I think it's lovely. Speaking of how lovely you look," Hannah winked, "I brought the new sketches for the dress." She handed me a pile of papers.

She had begun the new designs for my wedding gown only minutes after we had revealed that I was expecting twins. She had a similar reaction to my mother, who gasped first, and then loudly.

We sank onto the couch next to each other, and she looked over my shoulder as I rifled through the designs. They all were the same basic shape, designed to flow over an abnormally large stomach. All the necklines were different, but at this point, the body of the dress was going to be the same no matter what.

"Which ones do you like?"She prodded, eager to know what direction I was leaning in.

I flipped through them again, more slowly, taking time to appreciate the details. A few dresses had delicate straps that I felt would look good on my thin shoulders. "I like the spaghetti straps, but I'm worried that I'd be playing with them the whole time, and pulling them up."

"We could alter it to fit tighter, if you're worried about it being loose." She assured me.

"Hey Sam?" I called. I wanted his opinion. I could hear him sigh from the other room. "Could you come here for a minute and look at this?"

He was mumbling under his breath, but he answered quickly. "Sure, Emily," He appeared, covered in tiny splatters of lavender paint. "Look at what?"

"Wedding dresses." I held out a sketch.

He backed away quickly. "I'm not supposed to see it yet!"

I rolled my eyes. "Please, Sam. This is not exactly a traditional wedding."

"But..." he hesitated, as if he was afraid of hurting my feelings. "I kind of wanted it to be a surprise."

I pulled the design away. "You did?"

"I think seeing you in it for the first time should be sort of..." He stopped, blushed, and then looked down, "This is going to sound really stupid...but...I don't know, magical."

Hannah clapped. "I did raise the perfect son, didn't I?"

I stood, leaving the design to flutter to the couch, and hugged him, my fingertips just touching behind his back. Even on the days when I thought romance had been lost, when I thought we were settling into a boring routine, Sam managed to surprise me with something like that. "I love you."

He kissed the top of my head, and then put his hand between us on my stomach. "I love you, too." He pulled away. "Now, if you don't mind, I do have a nursery to paint."

I let him go. "That's fine - leave us girls to our wedding discussions."

He went back into the nursery, and turned on the radio. I went into our room and dragged out the folder of all the wedding plans. Sitting back down on the couch, Hannah and I settled in with tea and poured through piles of pictures and fabric swatches in variations of purple and green.

We had to pick bridesmaids' dresses, because Hannah was enlisting the help of some other women on the rez, and she wanted to give them plenty of time. I also wanted to pick out the linens to rent, and get a good idea for the flowers.

Hannah had sketched several bridesmaids' dress ideas and though I spent awhile trying to pick a dress that would look good on everyone, nothing really worked.

"Kim will kill me if I pick this one," I resolved, holding up a close-fitting halter dress with a deep neckline, "but nothing else would look good on Leah," I sighed, gesturing to the piles of ball gowns and floor-sweeping skirts and getting ready to give up. I was tired, and I was reaching my breaking point. It had been a long day and was turning into an even longer night. "Let's take a break so I can get something to eat."

Hannah deliberated for a moment, and then perked up. "How important to you is it that they all look the same?"

"Not at all," I said, wondering where she was going with this idea.

"Why don't you just let them all pick the one they want, and we'll make them out of the same fabrics and colors?"

I looked down at the sketches, trying to think how it would look if there was one of each. "That's perfect! How come I didn't think of that?"

Hannah just beamed.

"I'll have Leah choose one the next time she drops by, and I'll send the sketches to Kim's with Sam. Bella and Sarah will have to pick out Nessie and Claire's dresses, so Sam will have to deliver those too."

"I can make several copies; I'll run out and do it right now." Hannah gathered up the designs and slipped her shoes back on. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

"You really don't have to..." I started.

"Nonsense. It's nothing," Hannah reassured me. "Back in a flash." She was out the door before I could protest any further.

I wandered to the nursery and leaned against the doorway, smiling as I watched Sam dip the brush into the pan of lavender paint. His shirt was sticking to his back, sweat darkening the majority of the fabric. He had taken to wearing clothes more often, as it became harder and harder for me to resist him. "It looks adorable. You're doing a fantastic job."

Sam turned away from the wall to look at me. "Well, you're in a good mood today."

"I got most of the wedding plans out of the way, so of course I'm happy." I ran a hand through my loose hairs, twisting the rest of the braid over my shoulder flirtatiously.

He stood and made his way over to wrap on arm around my waist, grinning knowingly. "Where'd my mother go?"

"Well, we decided to let the bridesmaids pick their own dresses, so she's making copies of the different designs to give to everyone."

"Can you do that?" Sam asked. "I mean, let them choose their own dresses?"

I shrugged. "I don't see why not. I mean, I never thought of it, but it certainly makes things easier on me."

"And anything that makes your life easier is fine with me." He chuckled to himself.

"Oh, aren't you the sweetest?" I teased.

He kissed the top of my nose. "It's that wolf connection."

"I hope it's a little more than that," I half-groaned, pulling him as close to my body as possible.

He pressed his lips to mine fiercely, pinning me against the wall with his thick arms. He lifted me in his arms and carried me to the couch, kissing me the whole way. Our words played in repeat in my head, mocking me and my worst fears. The bottom of my stomach dropped as I considered their meaning, and his lack of response.

"Sam?" I asked seriously, breathing more ragged than I expected.

"Hm?" He murmured into the skin at my neck, planning on continuing the kiss. I put a hand on his chest to stop him.

The question came out as a timid whisper, and my throat suddenly became tight. "Is it more than that?"

Sam sat up, scrambling back to catch my gaze with his own. The skin between his eyebrows puckered and furrowed. "What did you just ask me, Emily?"

I closed my eyes, fearing that the slight watering of my eyes would spill over onto my cheeks. "Is it more than that, Sam?" I whispered.

His hands wrapped like steel over my wrists and he pulled me up to a sitting position. "Emily," he commanded, his voice thick and hard, "Open your eyes and talk to me."

I waited a second, before snapping open my eyes and keeping them focused on my hands. "Sorry," I mumbled.

"What is happening inside your head, Em, that you would ask something like that?" Sam suddenly dropped my wrists, they landed in my lap angrily.

I didn't know what made me say it. I hated myself for even bringing it up. Sam didn't need to battle with my own inner fears - unfounded as they were. The fat, rolling tears made their way down my cheek, following the grooves of my scars. Sam inhaled sharply, and picked up my face in his massive palm.

"Emily, please."

"Is it more than that Sam? Is it really?" I wailed. "Why me, and not Leah? Why me and not some other girl who is prettier, and thinner, and smarter?" I gasped for air. "Please, Sam, you have to tell me, I have to know, is it more than just the imprint?"

He didn't say anything. Sam was frozen on the couch, eyes blinking every few moments, his hands tensed into fists of the cushions. Finally, when he answered, his voice was full of sorrow.

"Emily," he shook his head, worriedly. "If you still wonder, I haven't told you - haven't been able to tell you - how much I love you. I know that the imprint has to make things confusing for you, and I'm sorry I've never been able to adequately explain my feelings to you.

"The imprint has a lot to do with it, Em, but that's because of what an imprint means. Fate didn't pick you for me at random, darling. You and I are soul-mates, and the imprint just made it easier for me to find you."

I looked up to his face, and into his eyes. I felt horrible for saddling him with this guilt. It wasn't his fault I was insecure. He had never done or said anything to make me believe that he wasn't sincere. It was the voice in my head, deep into the dark recesses of my skull, who whispered words of unworthiness.

"Emily, please, you have to believe that we were meant to be together. We were incredibly lucky to find each other, and the imprint did that."

I believed him, of course I did. I had never questioned if Sam and I were meant to be together, just if that was because of who we were or if it was because his wolf self had decided we would make good wolf babies.

I spoke up, finally interrupting Sam's loving speech. "But Sam, what about Leah's theory?"

He growled at me. "Not you, too, Em. I hate to say it, but maybe the reason why I didn't imprint on Leah had nothing to do with her lack of fertility and everything to do with the fact that I needed to be with you."

I couldn't help smile at his declaration that he needed me. "Sam, I love you, and I know that you love me. I just...get insecure sometimes."

"I'm not leaving you Em. You have to know that. I am never going to leave you, or our girls," he promised, reaching to wrap his hand around my braid possessively, like he was holding on. "You've been worrying over that particular thought far too often lately for my taste." Sam looked at me intently. "Care to explain?"

Oh, shit. This was going to sound horrible. "I have to preface this by saying," I began, "that I was terrified by the idea of being pregnant. My mind explored quite a few scenarios, none of them pleasant. I was sure that you were going to leave, or would harbor resentment for the rest of our lives. I was stupid and insecure, and I'm sorry I waited to tell you."

Sam frowned, but I pushed on. He deserved this. He had been completely honest with me, and now it was my turn.

"I had a dream, Sam," I confessed, remembering the dream I had while asleep on the sofa, the day I took the tests, "that you were leaving me." I blanched when Sam flinched, knowing the pain I would see in his eyes. He deserved this, I repeated.

"You said you loved me, kissed me and left me in tears. It was so _real_, Sam!" I whimpered. "It felt so real. It seemed reasonable - that you wouldn't be ready for kids. And the responsibility would feel overwhelming, and well...I would be less desirable. I could picture you leaving." My voice got softer, quieter. Sam was scowling now. "I expected it. And thoughts like those are hard to get rid of."

I finished, and looked down, afraid to meet his eyes.

He was silent for a long while, but his voice was like rock when he finally replied. "I'm not leaving Emily. I would never leave."

I gathered the courage to look up at him. His eyes were wide and soft, gazing at me. They were full of truth. He was sure; he had thought it over and not answered right away. He had made a decision, a permanent, life-altering decision. He was staying.

I sighed, relieved. "Thank you," I breathed and pulled him closer to kiss me.

By the time Hannah was back, his body was pressed against every part of mine, his hands were in my hair and his shirt was off. I was too far gone to notice much, my eyes were closed and behind the lids, all I could see was the red heat that emanated from Sam's body.

She came up behind the couch and coughed. "Well... this is uncomfortable."

I jumped, but Sam was on top of me, so we hit heads. He rolled off me and onto the floor, and jumped to his feet. I began to laugh uncontrollably, giggles worming their way out of my pressed lips. Sam shot me a glare and whacked my shoulder with the back of his hand. I snorted.

"Mom!" He helped me off the couch and to my feet. "Sorry. I just... well... we, um, yeah..." he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

She waved it off, "No explanation needed, thanks! I brought copies, and I ran into Leah on the way home, so I gave her the packet already. She said she'd get back to you soon." She handed me a pile of packets, all stapled, highlighted, and numbered.

"Thanks, Hannah." I replied gratefully, calming my laughter and climbing off of the couch.

"Don't worry about it, I'm having fun." She walked around the couch and wrapped me in a hug, "But I have to go, I'm meeting Sue for dinner."

"Tell her hello for me."

She leaned in to kiss Sam goodbye. "I will."

The minute the door closed, I headed for the kitchen, ready for dinner.

"Whoa, whoa, where's the fire?"

I frowned. "Shut up, I'm hungry. I'm eating for three."

&&&

I was washing the dishes, scrubbing the pot and bowl from the rice, when it happened. "Oh my God!" I dropped the rag, sent soap bubbles flying, and put both of my hands on my stomach.

Sam was next to me in a moment. "What is it?"

The bubbling, swirling feeling in my stomach continued. "Holy crap, Sam!"

"Emily!" He thundered, "What the hell is wrong?"

"They're moving, Sam!" I sat down in a chair that he had pulled out. "They're moving." I couldn't find the words to tell him, how it felt, the emotions it stirred deep inside of me. I wished he could be in my body just for a minute. I was, once again, swept over by another wave of permanence. Sam couldn't do what I was doing. He couldn't feel this, experience it. This would always be mine, and only mine. These girls were mine, and I was responsible for them more than anyone else.

He pressed his hand to my stomach, over my own. "Really? Can I feel?"

I was too far wrapped up in the epiphany inside my head to answer just yet. These tiny babies inside me were mine to protect. A lioness was awoken somewhere in the pit of my stomach, and she roared. She was powerful, and she knew it was up to her to love these babies.

Sam's caring hand on my womb pulled me from the surge of power inside. I finally answered. "I don't think you can feel from the outside yet. You can try." I moved our hands and lifted the hem of my shirt. "It feels like bubbles...or...or butterflies."

"That's incredible, Em." He dropped to his knees in front of me, and pressed the side of his face to my skin. The heat of his skin against mine was like fire. He waited a minute, and then looked up. "Are they still doing it?"

"Yes."

He sighed, and pressed a kiss to my stomach. "I can't feel it."

I ran my hand through his hair. "Soon, Sam. It won't be very long until you can feel them too."

He rose, grinning and lacing his fingers with mine. "I know, I can't wait."

The bubbling slowed and then stopped. "They've stopped," I told him, enjoying having all the knowledge. I was in control.

We waited for a few minutes, holding hands; Sam supporting me and me supporting our girls.

&&&

I sat in front of a library computer, frantically scribbling down numbers, authors and titles. Sam was lounging on a plush couch, reading. The packet he was leafing through was a compilation of my last few hours work on the Internet. We were researching home births.

I had a feeling that I looked like a crazy women, dashing around the library shelves in sweats because we couldn't afford to go maternity shopping yet and I was far too big for my jeans. I was carting around a large stack of mostly pastel colored books, all of them with happy, giggling babies on the cover. I was fascinated by the sheer amount of information on the topic, though I had never considered home birth seriously before now. Granted, we had driven to the Seattle Public Library on Rainier Avenue, which was _significantly_ larger than the one in Forks, or Port Angeles, but the amount of books on natural births seemed vast.

After scrambling back through a shelf or two in order to grab another title, _Easing Labor Pain: The Complete Guide to a More Comfortable and Rewarding Birth_, I shuffled back to Sam and took a seat on the couch next to him, curling up into his side.

"Find anything good?" I asked, peering up to see the circles and lines he had marked on the web pages.

He put down the packet, keeping one finger tucked between the pages to keep his place, and looked down at me seriously. "I want to know what you think before I say anything."

I groaned, but settled against him and opened the first book in my pile.

I wanted to know everything, all at once, because I was quickly feeling a surge of comfort and rightness. Yet, feeling these things without knowing the dangers and statistics of home birth was worrying me. I didn't want to get my hopes up.

The first chapter of the book was talking about why I would want to choose a home birth, and it was sounding more and more like something I would love. Home birth stressed comfort, ease, familiarity, and, of course, safety. The goal was to welcome your baby in a warm and safe environment, where the mother was in control.

Yet, I was absurdly aware that nowhere in the pages I had consumed did they mention a home birth with twins. I was beginning to wonder if it was even possible, and if I was doing all this research in vain.

I turned the page, and a small card fell out of the spine.

_Questions about natural birth?_

_Call Sara Deeds_

_555-5555 _

_Certified midwife_

I held it up and turned it around in my fingers. "Sam?" I handed him the card, and he looked it over. "What do you think, should I call?"

He shrugged. "I don't see why not. We could go into one of those study rooms over there, and put her on speaker phone. Worst that could happen is she knows shit and we've wasted an hour."

I nodded, slowly, my heading bobbing unsurely up and down. "You have to talk first."

Sam chuckled, "Okay, Em. I'll talk first." He hugged me close, one arm wrapped in a vice around my shoulders. "But you do know that she'll want to speak with you eventually, right? I mean, you're the one with the children inside you."

"Sam, can you refrain from being a smart ass for the next few hours, please?"

He snorted, "I can try."

&&&

It turned out that Sara Deeds was out and not far from the library where we were. She promised to meet us in a few minutes; she'd be the one in the red hoodie and blue jeans. She hurriedly hung up, and Sam looked at me, stunned.

"Do you just want to run?" I asked him, half-serious.

He shook his head and motioned toward a study room with a wide, empty table and a few chairs. "No, she just sounds... very enthusiastic."

I was prepared for just about anything as I watched a round woman in a large, bright red sweatshirt and frayed jeans make her way to the door of the study room, ten minutes later. What I was unprepared for was just how much I liked her.

She shook my hand with strength and confidence, a bright smile on her face. "I'm Sara."

I relaxed, taking in her soft, dark hair and the purity of her blue eyes. "I'm Emily."

It was difficult to identify the wave of emotion that swept through our connected palms. It was an energy which tingled through our arms, cleansing, healing and bonding as it went. When we broke apart, I felt like I knew her already. I liked her.

Sam introduced himself as my fiancé, and at Sara's suggestion, he pulled three chairs into a triangle on one side of the table. No barriers, only open space between us.

Sara leaned back and crossed her legs. "So, how far along are you?" She got right down to business, but somehow, it wasn't blunt or overwhelming. It felt like she wanted to get to know me.

"17 weeks. I'm expecting twin girls." I bit my lip, afraid that she would break my heart with the news that I couldn't deliver twins naturally.

"I thought you looked big for 17 weeks! Congratulations!" She beamed, clapping me on the knee. "Are they your first?" She looked from me to Sam and back again.

I nodded. "And truthfully, they were unplanned." Something about Sara made me want to open up to her, to tell her anything that might aid her in helping us. "But Sam and I are committed to each other, and we can't wait to meet our daughters. We have a wedding planned for June."

"Another congratulations!" Sara cheered, happily. "Well, what do you want to know about natural birth? I'm happy to help any way I can."

Obviously, our first questions were about safety - of home births in general, and then of twin home births.

"Do you have a hospital within twenty minutes of your home?" Sara began her answer with a question for us.

I looked to Sam, unsure. He nodded.

"The reservation hospital is just about twenty minutes."

Sara turned back to me. "The first thing to know is that, should any emergency complication arise, we can get you or the babies to a hospital quickly. Now, that aside, I want to stress that home births are very safe, provided that you receive the proper prenatal care, and minimize risk. If babies are presenting transversely, there is very little we can do at home. With twins, there is more of a chance that one will be breech. We can handle that at home, most of the time." She was on a roll, gesturing with her hands and talking quickly. Sam and I listened, jotting down notes and suggestions when necessary and absorbing the information she spewed out. She explained that I would need to follow a strict pre-natal diet and excerise plan, developed by my midwife and doctor, to minimize the risk of complications when the twins were born. Sara admitted that twins would be much more of a challenge, but she knew it could be done.

Then, Sara winced. "Unfortunately, you cannot legally birth twins vaginally in hospitals, doctor's offices, or with state-licensed midwives in Washington."

Sam and I stared at her, shocked. Sam, I think was worried about my safety, while I was heartbroken. Foolishly, I had hoped that everything would work out. I began first, "Then, what can I do?"

"Independently certified midwives, like me, can deliver twins. If you want a list of other independent midwives, I have one that I could email you."

Sam clenched his teeth. "Before we talk about how to get around the law, can you tell me exactly how safe this is?"

Sara smiled gently. "I can't tell you exactly, because we don't know. Every birth has its risks, every birth is different. We won't know if we can even go through with the home birth until labor begins and we check the positioning of the babies. If they've turned the wrong way, Emily will have to have a cesarean."

I understood why Sam was being so careful, but all that kept running through my mind was how much I wanted this for my girls. Sara began with the statistics, a study in the 90's had revealed that, in hospitals, fetal distress rates were 6 times higher, maternal hemorrhaging was 3 times greater, and sluggish, unresponsive newborns arrived 3 times as often than in home births.[1] From there, she moved on to talk about the freedom of positioning at home, the decreased chance of developing post-partum depression, the benefits of delaying cutting the cord and the comforting environment. By the end, Sam was as convinced as I was.

Of course, we understood that every birth, no matter where it takes place, is risky business. Having twins just added to the possible complications. Yet, with the knowledge that we could get to the hospital if need be, Sam and I promised we would go home and seriously discuss it. We would call or email if we had more questions for her, or wanted a list of other independent midwives.

Sara stood, after three solid hours of discussion and questions, and wrapped me in a hug. "I'm so glad that you're considering a natural birth," she said, sincerely. "I can't wait to hear from you."

Sam shook her hand and thanked her, one hand on my back.

She put her hand over my stomach and spoke to the girls. "Goodbye darlings, I look forward to meeting you both." Giving us one last smile over her shoulder, Sara left the room.

As Sam moved to hold the door open for me (we were leaving as well - it was getting late), I put my hand on my stomach. The lioness purred, her babies safe and sound.


	5. Week 24

_**This chapter has been dedicated to Jacqueline Marolf (1991 - 2009). We still miss you, Jackie. RIP. **_

_**Disclaimer: Not SM & I don't own Twilight.**_

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* * *

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April 17th, 2009 - Week 24

The bathroom door was looking back at me ominously as I peered at it from inside the bathroom. I was already blushing, and I hadn't even put on the lingerie. I dumped the frilly white contents on the counter, and stood back to look at it. This was going to be embarrassing.

I pulled off my sweatpants and hoodie, leaving me in only my maternity tank top, bra, and boy shorts. I refused to look in the mirror because I was self-conscious without even seeing myself.

"Sam?" I called, my voice wavering. "Do I really have to?"

He answered right away, from the bed. "No."

I sighed. That didn't help me. He was just being nice. It was his birthday, and he got me Victoria's Secret lingerie as his present to himself. Now I was complaining about wearing it. I was making myself sick.

I yanked off the tank top and bent forward to unhook my bra. My chest had been slowly expanding, and releasing it from the contraption was a welcome relief. I had lines in my back from the band. I peeled off my underwear as well, and rubbed lotion into the jagged stretch marks on the underside of my stomach. Last time we talked, Sara had told me the stretch marks would be less noticeable if I moisturized every day, but so far, it hadn't helped.

I brushed through my hair while I was waiting for my skin to dry. I had borrowed Kim's deep conditioner and the dark tresses were unbelievably soft. I had forgone braids, so it hung straight down my back. I contemplated leaving my face without makeup and just accepting the purple of the scars, but it was Sam's night, and I wanted to look as beautiful as possible for him. So I spread cream foundation, concealer, and powder on my face, caking it on and making my skin look as flawless as possible.

Finally, resigning myself to this terrifying appearance, I stepped into the lace boy shorts and pulled the mesh-like babydoll top over my head. The ribbon tied in the front, right under my chest. I adjusted the bow, so that the ends hung equally, closed my eyes tight and turned to the mirror.

I had to look. I really had to look. But I was afraid that, if I did, I would never get the courage to go out there and face my perfect fiancé.

I opened my eyes.

I was huge, an elephant, a house.

I was the biggest, fattest, ugliest pregnant woman on the planet.

"Emily?" Sam called, no longer from the bed, but from right outside the door. "Em? Don't wear it. You don't have to. Just come out."

I cleared my throat, a thin cracking noise that wasn't supposed to sound as weak as it did. I was betrayed by my own vocal cords. "Um...one minute?"

"Sure."

"Just...uh...go wait on the bed again," I requested quietly.

I swept my hair back over my shoulder once more, dug around in my bag for a moment and applied a layer of lipgloss, and then spritzed on a tiny bit of perfume. My hand was shaking as I reached for the doorknob.

"Sam?"

"Emily? Please come out! You can wear whatever the hell you like."

I bit my lip. "Are you on the bed?"

"Yes, I swear."

"Can you promise not to laugh?" I asked.

Sam was suddenly stern. "I will not laugh. Why would I laugh?"

I took a deep breath, opened the door, and made my way to our room. I had to cross the room before I got to the bed, and when I could see the end of the footboard, I stopped and closed my eyes.

"You promise?"

"Emily," he stressed, "I promise that I will not laugh at you."

I took the step that would put me in his line of vision with my eyes still closed. I was barely breathing.

I heard him inhale, and my knees locked. The floor shook underneath me as he leapt off the bed and bounded over to my side, where I felt his arms wrap around me.

"You look stunning." His warm breath tickled my ear. My eyes flickered open, and he continued murmuring in my ear, lips grazing my skin seductively. "But there's one thing that I would change."

I hung my head against his bare chest, despair and rejection flooding through me. Tears prickled in my eyes. "I know, I'm sorry, I can't help it." I willed the tears to stay in my eyes and not ruin my makeup, but they didn't listen. "I'm so fat. I look disgusting."

He picked my head up, and wiped away the tears with his fingers, probably smearing the foundation off the scars.

"No!"I cried, turning to the mirror as he dropped his hand, confused. Sure enough, a thumb-sized spot of the hideous purple underneath was uncovered. "Oh, shoot! Sam!"

"What? What did I do?" He questioned. "I'm sorry, what did I do?"

I went to rush back to the bathroom, but he caught my arm. "I have to go fix it, I'll be right back," I muttered, already turned away.

"Fix what?" he demanded. "You have to explain."

"You smeared my makeup. I covered up my scars for you, and you ruined it." I pulled on my wrist, but he didn't let go.

Sam's face was contorted with emotion. "You covered up the scars for me, Em?"

I nodded. "It was your night, and I wanted to look perfect."

"Goddammit, Emily, you look perfect without the makeup. I meant to wipe it off, you're not the same without your scars. It was the one thing I wanted change." He kissed my hand, but still had a faint hint of anger on his face. "And Em? You're not fat, you're pregnant with my twins." He sighed and his expression relaxed.

He took advantage of my stillness and pulled me towards him. "It's kind of sexy, actually."

I shoved him playfully. "Shut up."

"You think I'm kidding, don't you?" He bent down and kissed me, his tongue playing games with mine. I was breathless when he pulled away and licked the side of my ear. "I'm not."

"Sam..." I moaned, forgetting about my insecurities.

His burning hot hands made their way up under the teddy to touch my upper back. I arched against him, my stomach pressing between us. He pushed my shoulders and I fell back onto the bed. Sam followed and rolled us so that he was below me, his mouth melding with mine every step of the way.

His hands grasped my hips and touched my leg. I moved to straddle his hips, and I pressed my stomach against his chest to balance myself. "Emily," he groaned.

"Sam," I whispered back, wantonly. "Happy birthday."

He licked his way across my collarbone, kissing my skin with a hot, open mouth. "Oh, _shit_, Em."

We drowned in waves of pleasure and heat, languished in the slickness of our bodies and the sparks in our dark eyes.

&&&

Hannah dragged the bag with my wedding dress over one afternoon in late May. I saw her coming from the window and practically fell over my own feet trying to get to the door.

"Oh my God!" I screamed, throwing the offending piece of wood out of my way. "Is it done?"

Sam quietly snuck out and hid in the bedroom, still holding strong to his resolution not to see my dress.

Hannah grinned at my excitement. "Almost. I'm here for a fitting."

I pulled off my shoes and jacket. "I want to try it on! I want to see it!"

Hannah stepped into the hall, pulled the garment bag out of the shopping bag and unzipped it, letting me see a peek of white satin. She folded the material over her arms to pull it out. It looked soft, fluid, and utterly, completely perfect.

I inhaled. "Oh, Hannah!"

She held up the hanger. The straps looked so delicate, and the neckline was sublime. It scooped, so it was sexy, but the lace went high enough that it was still modest, to cover up my quickly enlarging chest. The crevices in the bodice were filled with glitter, adding dimensions that caught the light. A bow framed my chest, to draw attention away from the satin over my stomach. The front and the back were even, to give me a train in the back and a floor-length hem in the front.

I ripped off my tank top, trying not to grimace at my even bigger stretch marks. My sweatpants came off as well, and I was reaching for the dress.

Hannah laughed. "Eager, are we?" She moved into the living room, checking to see if Sam was nearby, and then piling the dress on a sofa arm while she helped me gather the clothes I was shedding. She took off her jacket and laid it on the chair.

"You have no idea." I was bouncing with excitement, the girls doing little flips and kicking happily in reaction.

"You should stand on something so I can pin." She pulled over a foot stool and helped me onto it. "Hands up."

I raised my arms, not caring that I hadn't shaved in a few days, and Hannah unzipped the bag of the dress and stood on a chair to help slide it over my head and arms. I pulled on the bodice, bending over to adjust myself, and twisted around until the fabric draped the right way. Hannah got right to work with pins, humming to herself through her closed lips. The bodice was a little big, so she pinned half of the excess fabric away. There was also too much space for my stomach, but the wedding was still three weeks away, so I would grow to fit. "How does it look?"

"It's marvelous. Sam is going to die."

His voice came from behind the bedroom door. "Will you hurry up, Mom? I'm tempted to steal a glance at my _marvelous_ fiancée."

"Stay in there, Sam!" I yelled. "Be strong!"

Hannah was doubled over laughing behind me. "Three more weeks, son! Just hang in there!"

He let out an exaggerated groan while Hannah unzipped and got me out of the dress.

I hugged her once she had packed up the dress and I had slipped my clothes back on. "Thank you, thank you so much. It's everything I dreamed of."

&&&

Unfortunately, not everything could be as easy as the wedding. Sam held my hand as I gulped and tried to make eye contact with Dr. Echler.

"Sam and I," I began, keeping my voice surprisingly steady, "after a lot of research and conversation with each other and a midwife, have decided to try for a natural, home birth for our girls." I rushed the end of the sentence, wanting to escape the small, stuffy room, and get as far away as possible from the scornful look on Dr. Echler's face.

Her jaw was clenched, her eyes narrow. I fought back the butterflies in my stomach, and put my hand on my womb to feel the girls kicking. They were on my side, I knew. My own little cheering section.

"Emily," Dr. Echler's voice was steely, "please tell me that you are joking."

I pressed my eyes closed, taking the words like a slap in the face. Sam tightened his grip on my hand. Dr. Echler was the first person, outside of Sara and Sam, whom I had told about my decision, and she hoped I was kidding.

It was okay. I had known that some people would react this way - and honestly, I had suspected that Dr. Echler would be one of them. I had been holding out hope that she wouldn't - I needed an OB to help me with my pre-natal care plan - but obviously that was not the case. I took a deep breath, digging out my small store of confidence, and pulling my shoulders back slightly. I could do this without her approval; I was my own woman. I was proud.

When I opened my eyes again, a long few seconds later, I shook my head. "No, I am not joking. We are planning for a homebirth."

She made condescending clucking noises with her tongue. "I wouldn't recommend a vaginal birth in your case, let alone one without any medical aid. It could be extremely dangerous for you and your children."

I blanched, unable to believe that she would go so far as to insinuate that I would kill my children with my choice, but knowing that Dr. Echler was never one to mince her opinion. "I'm sorry that you feel that way, but in the end, this is my choice."

I didn't need her manipulating me; I didn't have to be afraid. Fear had no place in my childbirth, my pregnancy, or my home. The confidence grew. I was surer of myself than I had been in a long time.

"I would like to have a doctor here in the hospital to help during the pregnancy and on call during the delivery, in case something does go wrong and I need to come in. Is there someone you can refer me to who will be supportive of Sam and I?"

Dr. Echler seethed. "I don't know a single doctor who would encourage this carelessness, Emily."

Sam stood, yanking me to my feet along with him. "We'll be leaving now. You are being extremely rude, and we don't have to listen to you anymore." He flung open the door, motioning me in front of him, and once I had exited, he slammed the door closed again.

He stormed out to the car before he calmed enough to take me in his arms. "We'll find someone else, Em. Sara can give us some names, and they'll be more understanding."

I kept sucked in deep, ragged breaths, trying to slow my pounding heart.

"I'm proud of you, Em." He took my face in his hands and made me look at him.

I nodded, swallowing. "Thanks."

A part of me was disappointed that I hadn't been able to walk out on her all by myself. If Sam hadn't been there, I would have stayed and let her cut me down. I wasn't confident enough to assert myself just yet, though I was committed to improving; my girls deserved a strong role model, and I wanted it to be me.

After a short moment, I pulled away from Sam and opened the car door. "Let's go home, Sam."

I didn't feel like the appointment had been a success, but it hadn't been a failure either. I hadn't let her talk me out of this.

I believed that home birth was safe. If I didn't believe it with all my heart, I wouldn't risk it. And if - God forbid - something changed that made delivering at home unsafe, I would seek the needed medical attention in a heartbeat. However, for now, home birth was safe and healthy for my babies. For now, it was my choice.

"You okay, Em?"

I pulled my gaze away from the window to find Sam looking at me curiously from the driver's seat.

I considered, for a second, lying to him about my thoughts, but then reconsidered when I thought about how honest he had been recently concerning our relationship. "I'm okay, Sam. I was just wishing that I had possessed the courage to walk out of the office by myself."

Sam hummed, considering that. "I was happy to support you. You don't have to do everything by yourself."

"Not everything, no," I agreed. "But this was about our children, and I wish that I could have stood up for what's best for them. I am their...mother, after all." The word was hard to form, hard to wrap my mind around.

"You did stand up for them. You were brave in there."

I rolled my eyes, but kept silent.

Sam forced out breath between his teeth. "Emily," he growled. "You made a difficult decision, and you stuck with it. You were damn brave, and I'm proud of you."

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. We sat in silence for awhile, Sam taking my compliance as an agreement. He turned down our street, and pulled into our driveway. I heaved myself out of the car, the edge of self-chastisement fading as I calmed. It hadn't been perfect, but I shouldn't complain. I was starting to see that I could be strong and confident.

Sam held open the door and I slowly made my way through the frame, kicking my shoes on the carpet next to the door. The answering machine was beeping - it was Sara, calling to ask about making me an appointment at the center in the next few weeks. Her timing was kind of perfect. As Sam settled into the couch with a bottle of pop, I sat at the table - munching on apple slices - and dialed her back.

"Good morning!" she answered on the second ring, her mellow voice tinkling over the phone.

I relaxed, just from hearing her voice. "Sara? It's Emily Young."

"Oh, darling, how are you?"

"I told Dr. Echler this morning, and she didn't take it very well," I admitted, propping my elbows on the table.

"Tell me everything."

I filled her on the happenings at the office, and Sam walking us out. I avoided the conversation from the car - that was just for Sam and me.

"You did very well. You _should_ be proud of yourself," Sara concluded, coming eerily close to Sam's thoughts.

"Thanks, I guess." I was only moderately proud, but the feeling of inadequacy was there, hidden under my self-consciousness but pushing to break through. "I just wish that I could have been the one to walk out."

Sara chuckled warmly on the other end of the line. "Small steps, Emily. Next time, okay?"

She couldn't see, but I smiled on my end of the phone. "Yeah, next time."

"So you need a few names, don't you?"

With her breezy change of subject, I felt the tension in my chest dissipate. "That would be fantastic."

"I'll email them to you soon, okay? I know a few people in your area."

"I can't thank you enough, Sara, really," I asserted.

"Don't worry about it. I'll talk to you in a few days."

"Talk to you then." We prepared to hang up. "Goodbye, Sara."

"Bye, Emily."

The phone clicked, but I held it up to me ear until the dial tone sounded. One of the girls kicked happily under my skin, and I found myself lifting my shirt to watch my skin stretch with her movements. They were there, growing and waiting to come out. I found myself impatient to see them, hold their tiny little feet in my hands, stroke their messy hair. It surprised me how eager I was to be a mother, but it was a good surprise.

When I dragged myself off the seat, I shuffled into the living room, where Sam was eating popcorn and lounging on the sofa. I settled in next to him, smiled up at his deep eyes, rested my head on his warm chest and closed my eyes. In minutes, I was fast asleep.


	6. Week 28

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**May 15th, 2009 – Week 28**

I was on my hands and knees, the fridge pulled away from the wall and my stomach, nearing 50 centimeters around, was dragging against the floor, which made the girls uncomfortable. They kicked at my bladder, stirring the urge to pee. I groaned, dunking the rag back in the bucket of warm, soapy Pinesol water and scrubbing the area behind the fridge angrily. I was going to get rid of the smell if it killed me.

Sam opened the door, returning from a delivery, dusty and covered in dirt. I held up a hand. "Stop!"

He froze, faltering back a step or two. "Emily? What in the world?"

"Take off your shoes." I ordered. "I just cleaned the whole kitchen."

He frowned at me. "Did you move the fridge all by yourself? Em, you can't be doing things like that when I'm not here," he continued you to scold me. "I have to know that you're not going to hurt yourself when I'm not around."

"But, Sam! The smell was going to drive me mad." I returned to scrubbing the tile. "It smelled like something died in here."

He inhaled deeply, trying – really trying – to smell what I did. He shook his head. "I don't know, Emily, I can't smell anything but the Pinesol."

I rolled my eyes, "Sure, now that I've cleaned the whole place. This morning it was like something was rotting. It's a little better now."

I wrung out the rag into the bucket and hoisted it back on top of the counter while Sam removed his shoes. I put both my hands on the ground and pushed myself onto my knees. I wobbled a bit, and then reached up to use to the countertop as support. It didn't work.

I looked over at Sam, who was stifling his laughter behind an awkward smile. "Stop laughing and help me!" I wailed. "I'm too fat to get up!" My ankles were swollen and pulsing under the weight of my body.

Sam hurried over and lifted my up by my elbows effortlessly. "There," he said jokingly, "at least I'm still good for something."

I kissed his cheek, falling into his arms. "You'll always be good for something, Sam. I need you." The truth resonated in my chest without the usual sense of dependency.

The girls kicked in my stomach again, and Sam felt it against his. I relaxed, sagging into his chest, and nuzzled my face against the fabric of his shirt. I inhaled, enjoying the rosin and moss scent that lingered between the threads, and silently welcoming him home. "They need you, too, you know."

His lips touched mine gently. "Glad to hear it."

I stole a glance back at the fridge, which was still halfway into the floor of the kitchen. "Speaking of things that I need of you, could you push the fridge back?" I laughed. "Moving that the first time was hard enough."

He glowered at me. "No moving large appliances."

I nodded in agreement, remembering the half an hour of inch by inch movements that it took me to pull it out in the first place.

"I promise."

He grinned, tapped my butt and sent me out of the kitchen while he slid the fridge back into place easily.

* * *

I was lounging on the couch, more than six months along, with a book on the birth process propped against my massive stomach. It had been a long day for both of us. With only a week until the wedding, I had spent the day walking around the venue with both my mother and Leah. My feet were more swollen than usual, and I was cranky. I was leaning against Sam, who had visited the florist with his mother to save me the trip. He wasn't in the greatest mood either.

We were both exhausted, and I was going to lose my mind if he kept flipping channels. "Do you have to do that?" I protested, as he began his fifth rotation through the programs. I closed the book on my stomach, flinging it onto the coffee table with disgust. I picked up a new one, unable to focus on a singular topic.

"Sorry," Sam apologized, tossing the remote to the floor.

I ran my hand over the top of my head, smoothing my hair back into place, and sighed. The wedding stress was getting to both of us.

"Just pick one or turn it off, please," I protested. "The noise is going to make me crazy." I opened the new book, but wasn't reading it. Instead, I was feeling the muscles of Sam's abdomen tense under my head and shoulders. I tensed as well, waiting for his reply. He picked up the remote and turned off the television, sitting coldly on the couch for a few moments before sagging into the cushions.

"Sorry, Em," he murmured, moving an arm around my shoulders to rest a hand on my stomach. I was instantly hit with a wave of guilt; all he ever wanted was to make me happy and here I was snapping at him.

"S'okay," I muttered back, putting the gemstone book down for another, later, time. "I'm sorry too. I know today was a long for you."

"No kidding. I've never seen two women so excited about flowers," he chuckled, taking his feet off the coffee table. "Want some mac and cheese? I think we have a box in the cabinet…" he trailed off, preparing to stand and go to the kitchen.

Picturing the kitchen after Sam's last foray into cheese and pasta, I shook my head. "Let's go out instead. No dishes!"

Sam agreed and we lugged ourselves off the couch and toward the door. He held out a helpful arm while I pulled on my shoes, before snatching the keys off the counter and journeying out into the dark night. In the car we debated playfully about where to go – or, as Sam put it, where they would have enough food for me to eat. Due to my inexplicable desire for lots of barbeque sauce, we eventually decided on a barbeque place, outdoor dining in Port Angeles. Sam parallel parked effortlessly, earning a snort from me as he held my door open and offered a hand to hoist me from the car seat.

More than six months along with my twins, my size was rapidly approaching giant, and we drew attention wherever we went – the seven foot tall man and his heavily pregnant wife were hard to miss. Surprisingly, however, I was finding it increasingly easy to accept all the blatant stares, odd questions and well wishes. For example, the hostess seating us peppered me with questions the entire walk to our table, on the back porch where we could watch the people of Port Angeles enjoy the summer.

"How far along are you, if you don't mind me asking?" She was petite, brunette, and wearing a dress that looked eerily like it may have been from her senior year homecoming dance.

"I'm 28 weeks – with twins," I added, before she could assume that I was just enormously fat for six months along.

She giggled excitedly as she placed the menus down on the table. "Congratulations to both of you. They'll be beautiful, I'm sure. You are the cutest couple!"

"Thanks," replied Sam, pulling a chair out and leading me into it.

She blushed profusely, hurriedly thrusting the silverware next to the menus on the table. "Enjoy your meal, your server will be with you shortly," she rushed, and then scurried off.

"The cutest couple," Sam, chuckling, repeated and then sat down himself.

I rolled my eyes. "She didn't see it in me, that's for sure," I joked with him, unrolling my silverware and tucking my napkin on my lap, under my large stomach.

"You're going to want that over your belly. I don't think you have many nice shirts left," Sam teased, pulling the napkin up and over the bulge, where food tended to land.

I pulled back my spoon and smacked his arm.

We talked and laughed our way through dinner, light conversation setting the tone for the evening after. We walked – well, waddled – to a nearby ice cream stand, where we sat licking cones for a while before getting back in the car and beginning the drive home.

* * *

We pulled up the driveway late that night, the headlight beams reflecting off the glass of the nursery window, and Sam came around to my side of the car and helped me out. We made our way to the porch; he held the door open for me. Once the door had closed behind us, I took his face in my hands, pressed him against the wood of the entryway and claimed his mouth with mine.

He enclosed me in his arms, letting me kiss him into oblivion. When I broke away, he wasted no time in peeling my shirt from my skin. Yet, when I expected him to return to my mouth, he instead dropped to his knees and pressed his mouth to my stomach, brown and streaked with stripes of red. I threw my head back and sighed with pleasure.

"Sam," I murmured.

"I love you," he replied. "I love you."

It was beautiful, the light from the porch glinting off the skin on the back of his neck, his mouth shimmering on the skin of my round stomach – but this time, I was beautiful too. It was something I had never seen before, the beauty that was he and I combined. I thought back to dinner, and how handsome his white teeth had looked against his skin when he smiled. Did he think I was as pretty as I thought he was? He must have.

He returned to his feet and I stepped back, giving him room to move away from the door. He took my hand and pulled me down the hallway, kissing me and pressing my rounded hips into his.

* * *

I took the afternoon off on Tuesday, driving over to Leah's house for the combined baby and wedding shower. I wasn't particularly looking forward to being fawned over, nor did I want to subject myself to piles of gifts. I didn't want to admit it, but the last thing I wanted to be doing was going to a party. I really just wanted to curl up on the couch with Sam and sleep.

While in the car, I gave myself a pep talk. I was determined not to let my mood swings get the best of me. Being pregnant did not give me a pass to snap at every person I came into contact with. Sighing, I parked on the side of the street – the driveway being already filled with cars. I used the car frame to push myself out of the cramped space and made my way up the drive and to the door.

I could hear the squealing before my hand even touched the knob.

"She's here!"

I plastered a smile on my face and swung the door open. Leah swarmed in, taking my jacket and kissing my cheek. "Emily! You're right on time! Come in, come right on in," she gestured toward the living room with her hand excitedly.

"Hi Leah, thanks for organizing all this," I mumbled.

"No problem! We're going to have so much fun!" We made our way into the living room, Leah following behind me. "Everybody – Emily's here!"

The room erupted in various levels of squeals, oohs and aahhs as all the women welcomed her. Hannah and my mother were seated next to each other on the couch, little plates of treats on their laps. Kim and Bella were catching up by the mantel, Kim holding a cup of sherbet punch that looked delicious. Among the other guests were Paul's girlfriend – Jacob's sister Rachel – and Sue Clearwater, plus a few of the girls from work.

"Hello," I said quietly, waving. My mother bumped over on the couch, and made room for me next to her. I hurried over to sit down, also taking a glass of the punch when it was handed to me. "So," I began once I was settled, "what kind of shenanigans do we have planned for today?"

A communal chuckle went around the room as everyone found a place to sit. Leah piped up, "what first? Games or gifts?"

Nervously eyeing the towering pile of gifts in the corner, half wrapped in white and silver paper and half wrapped in pastels, I opted for games. Leah and Kim ran to pull out trays, one containing different spices we had to identify and the other carrying the baby shower staple of melted chocolate diapers.

I groaned. "My sense of smell is so messed up! This is going to be terrible!"

"And hilarious!" Kim chimed in, as the other women murmured their agreement.

Sure enough, I guessed wrong on nearly everything, but I had a surprisingly good time trying to cheat off everyone around me.

"Okay – next game!" Leah announced, whipping out an astounding number of toilet paper rolls. "Get into teams of three!"

As everyone hurried to find a team – Kim and Bella running over to join mine – Leah handed each group three rolls of paper. "The objective of this game is to make a wedding dress and accessories for a member of your group – using only the toilet paper! Good luck ladies!"

Bella jumped into action. "Who wants to be the bride?"

"It should be Emily," Kim chirped.

I shook my head. "I'm the size of a house! We can make a better dress with a skinnier model." I looked pointedly at Kim.

She shrugged. "Okay – what are we-"

Bella interrupted her by asking me to hold the roll and then whirling around Kim in a blur. She called out orders, "Hands up, arms down, turn – no, the other left – arms out." When the first roll was gone, Bella paused and took a step back. "How's that?"

My mouth hung open. Kim had on a full skirt, which was draped and ruched around her waist. "Ummm…it looks fantastic," I managed.

Bella took a contemplating look at her handiwork. "Now for the bodice." The whirling began again, until Kim was wearing a strapless bodice that matched the skirt. Bella turned to me. "Veil?"

I nodded, mutely.

Carefully, Bella arranged a tiara and long veil, and then a bracelet around Kim's wrist. "There! It's lovely!"

Kim, slightly stunned, looked down at her new outfit. "Somebody get a picture!"

I grabbed the camera off the nearby table and snapped a few frames while all the other women gave up their attempts in favor of admiring Bella's creation. "Boy, am I glad you were on our team!" I told her.

Bella giggled, "it was fun!"

* * *

After we had been thoroughly worn out with games and a significant amount of pictures had been taken, we sat down to open gifts. The girls sat around me – on the couch, pulling up chairs, sitting cross-legged on the floor. They all had wide, giddy smiles on their faces that made me nervous as well as excited.

I gave in, spreading a grin across my face and reaching my hand out to grab a present from the top of the wedding pile. "What's first?"

Kim blushed from her seat on the floor. "Hope Sam likes it," she giggled.

"Oh, no," I flinched as I tore away the wrapping paper to reveal a black box underneath. I lifted the lid timidly and turned a bright shade of red as I lifted the black babydoll out of the box. Hoots and hollers came from the group and I quickly covered the box back up and set it on the floor. "That should be…fun," I babbled.

All the ladies laughed as I picked more gifts out of the wedding pile, unwrapping several more pieces of lingerie, a body wash gift set, a home spa kit for the wedding day, a photo frame with a picture of the two of us from Hannah, and a collection of family recipes from my mother. When I had emptied the wedding pile, I hugged all of my guests and then reached for the baby pile.

Mostly, it was filled with adorable matching clothing sets for the girls – in every color and print imaginable. Also included were some teddy bears, a pacifier set and burp clothes, and a baby monitor set. When all the gifts had been packed away in bags to go out to the car, and everyone had been thanked and hugged again, we sat around the kitchen table with coffee – decaf for me. The older women swapped stories of their own children and weddings, and every person offered to babysit when the girls were old enough – and Sam and were ready for a break. It felt a little early to be thinking about it, but I was definitely going to take them all up on the offers. I wasn't kidding myself about how difficult this was going to be.

"Call me if you need anything!" Kim reminded me as she headed to her car, the last of the girls to leave. Turning to Leah, I enveloped her in a hug.

"Thank you," I whispered. "It was great."

"It didn't wear you out?" she asked, noting the tired look on my face.

I laughed, "oh – it wore me out alright. But everything does that these days. I think I'm going to go home and sleep until Sam gets back."

Leah helped me get the gifts to the car and then waved as I drove away – promising me that she'd call tomorrow. When I pulled in the driveway at home, I slammed the car door and left all the gifts where they were. I pushed open the door, kicked off my shoes and made my way to the couch, where I promptly curled up and went to sleep – one hand wrapped around my belly and one tucked under my head. I stayed that way until Sam woke me with a kiss.

* * *

**_Hey readers, I can't thank you enough for your patience. You really are fantastic. Hopefully, it won't be nearly as long between the next updates. My life has resumed a semi-normal schedule, though you never really know. Thank you for all of your kind words and support - and keep those reviews coming. They are so nice to read!_**


	7. Week 29

**_So, I'm back from another hiatus, and for those of you who have stuck it out - I love you. Really I do. I just finished up graduation from high school and I have the whole summer off. I will most definately be finishing this story this summer - there are only three chapters after this one, and they just need some re-editing. Thanks for all of your continued love and support. _**

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* * *

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**May 22nd, 2009 – Week 29**

Kim, like the sweetheart she is, was tearing up at the sight of me in my wedding gown. "You are an angel!"

I snorted, "A fat angel."

"Shut up!" She scolded. "You're beautiful."

Everyone in the room voiced their agreement. Even Bella, holding Nessie's hand in the corner, nodded and smiled at me. I smiled back, thanking her for being here even though it was hard.

Nessie and Claire were in the same flower girl gown, Nessie's in purple and Claire's in brown. They each held a tiny wicker basket of violet petals, which they were having fun picking up and playing with. Nessie carefully examined each petal as she held it.

Kim, Rachel and Leah were all in short, purple dresses, with violets in their hair. They each held a bouquet of violets and white roses, tied with brown satin ribbon. Leah was being a darling and smiling her face off. I hadn't heard one sarcastic comment from her all day, and I would be sure to thank her for being so nice on my big day.

Someone poured champaign, giving me and the little girls glasses of sparkling grape juice instead, and everyone raised their glass. "To Emily and Sam!"

All the women in the small room screamed and squealed and downed their drinks.

I nervously touched my tiara, checking to make sure that it was still securely in place. I had forgone a veil, simply because it seemed like more hassle than I needed. My feet were as comfortable as possible in little white ballet flats, hidden beneath the cover of my gown. I twisted the silver engagement band on my finger, which wouldn't be alone in a few hours. Sam and I had gone shopping together, and while he picked out a twisted silver braid, I picked out another band with a row of diamonds that would fit with my engagement ring. I didn't want to take it off.

My mother saw the look on my face, and she touched my chin with her finger. Per Sam's request, the makeup artist at the salon in Port Angeles hadn't covered my scars, and my mother rubbed her thumb along one. "Hey, Emily," she whispered. "Don't be afraid. This is Sam."

I knew what she was trying to get at. Sam and I were meant to be together. This wedding was just the natural progression of our relationship. I was doing the right thing.

As if recognizing the truth in my words, my girls kicked opposite sides of my womb, flexing at the same time. I supposed it was getting rather crowded in there.

Bella, who was still in the corner, raised a dainty white hand into the air and spoke. "Everyone? It's almost time. Why don't we give Emily a minute?"

It took a minute for Bella's words to sink in, but when they did, everyone murmured agreement and pressed me into careful hugs – leaning over my monstrous belly – before hurrying out into the lobby. Bella hung back for a minute, sending Nessie out with Claire.

She came over, breathing carefully but relaxed, and touched a hand to my arm very lightly. "It's a little scary, isn't it?"

I laughed breathily. "The babies or the wedding?"

Her smile lit up the room. "Both."

"Yeah, it is." I was serious again.

"The wedding part is great; I promise that once you get out there and see his face, nothing else will even register." Bella was giving me some girl advice, and for some reason, it made me feel better than anything my mother had said all day. "I was in a similar situation, you know? Edward and I were meant for each other, but walking out there was still scary as hell." She laughed and it rang like wind chimes. "And congratulations on the twins - you're going to be a great mother."

I held her hand in mine for a minute, trying not to make this any harder than it already was for her. "Thank you, Bella." She would know that I was talking about more than one thing.

"You're welcome." She squeezed my hand, and smiled. "And I'll leave you with what Alice left me, 'Focus, Emily. Sam is waiting for you out there.'"

She winked playfully at me, and then disappeared out the door. I turned and looked in the full length mirror in front of the closet. I looked good. My hair was swept up, piled in seemingly random curls on top of my head and adorned with a silver tiara. My dress hugged my chest perfectly, the bow gracing the bottom of my breasts and the top of my stomach. I was tan, my eyes were bright and my lips were the perfect shade of red.

I picked up my bouquet, took a deep breath, checked the clock, and left the room, turning off the lights behind me.

* * *

My mother kissed my cheek before she went to her seat, her eyes watering a little already. I had chosen to walk down the aisle alone, in light of my father being out of the picture. Hannah waved and followed her down to their seats.

Edward began a slow and sweet melody on the piano, and Mrs. Clearwater ushered Kim and Jared down the aisle, followed by Leah and Embry. Paul and Rachel walked in behind them, side by side. Jacob followed and took his place as best man. The original pack, all together for our wedding. I knew how much it meant to Sam to have them all there.

Next, Mrs. Clearwater pushed Nessie and Claire through the doors of the little chapel. They held hands for the first few steps, shot each other a look, and then twirled down the rest of the aisle, flinging violets into the air wildly.

Sue looked at me, and I smiled back at her feebly. Edward, all knowing, wove a march into the music and my legs went weak. I inhaled, smelling flowers galore, and put one hand on the side of my stomach, where my girls were living. I remembered what Bella said. _Focus, Emily. Sam is waiting for you out there._

I took my first step.

Mrs. Clearwater rushed behind me to adjust my train. I took another step.

My third step put me through the doors of the chapel, and my eyes swept the crowd frantically. There were so many people!

And then, as if his gaze was pulling mine, I found Sam. Everyone else melted away, and I was left with nothing but him. His eyes were glistening, his face was stretched by the widest smile. My heart thundered in my chest, and I felt a kick on my palm. A grin broke across my own face.

Sooner than I ever thought possible, I arrived at the altar and Sam was taking my hand and helping me up the two steps.

I whispered all my vows, barely loud enough for the minister to hear, and Sam thundered his to the world. The tears spilled over as I declared, "I do," and Sam wiped away the ones that fell along the grooves of my scars. I saw Sam leak a few tears of his own, and my chest felt like it might burst with love. My hands shook uncontrollably as I placed my ring on his finger, and he laughed at my tremors while he struggled to get my new band on.

Sam had me in his arms well before the man declared us husband and wife, and he proceeded to kiss me senseless in front of everyone. Our daughters kicked wildly against us, reacting to the chaos going on in and outside of my body.

We were the perfect newlyweds. We ran down the aisle to cheers and laughter, hopped in the car after being pelted with rice, waved and drove off in a decorated car. It all seemed surreal.

* * *

In exchange for buying each other wedding bands, we had decided against an extravagant honeymoon. Instead, after the crowded and loving reception – during which the pack had way too much fun with the kissing game – we climbed back in the decorated car and drove to Seattle, where Hannah and Jennifer had bought us the weekend at the Fairmont Olympic in an Executive Suite. I was still in my wedding dress, train and all, as the valet held the door and offered me his hand to help me out of the low car. Sam wrapped one long arm around my waist and pulled me through the door, tossing the keys and a tip to the valet.

All eyes in the lobby were on us as Sam pulled me toward the front desk to check in. She handed us each a key, with a warm, "Congratulations."

"Thanks!" I called over my shoulder as Sam led me away from the desk and in the direction of the elevator.

He glanced around the hallway outside our door, and then, finding no one there, pinned me to the wall and kissed the crook of my neck. "Mmmmmmm," I groaned into his chest. "Sam?"

"Hm?"

"Are we going inside?"

He licked his way up my neck, nibbling on my ear. "Maybe."

I laughed, carefree and feeling more loved than ever. "Sam!" I wrestled the key away from him and turned to open the door. He patted my butt as my back was to him, and I swatted his hand away.

I held the door while he carried in the one overnight bag we had packed, mostly full of prenatal vitamins for me and a change of clothes to go home in. I think Sam had thrown in some of my maternity lingerie as well, not that I was planning on wearing much of it.

He dropped the bag on the couch and as I sat on the edge of the luxurious king bed, pulling the train of my dress out from under me. I was just beginning to fuss with the pins in my hair when Sam stopped my hands.

"Hey!" I protested. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to take care of you tonight." He promised, choking on his words.

I leaned into him, resting my head on his giant shoulders.

He kissed me, taking my bottom lip between his two and sucking gently. I opened my mouth and took in his tongue, both of our tongues mixing lithely together. When I pulled away for air, his hands went to my shoulders and turned my back to him.

"Sam?" I whispered as he pulled pins from the mess of my hair.

He kissed the top of my back, "What is it, flower?"

"I love you." The first tendril of hair fell free from the updo.

Sam twisted it around his fingers lovingly. "I love you, too."

I closed my eyes, put one hand on our girls, and relaxed into his chest. Within minutes, he had all of my hair free.

"I'm leaving in the crown, because you're a queen tonight." He ran his fingers through my hair.

The inevitable flow of tears began and I could barely control myself. I turned back around to throw my arms around him as best I could – with the girls between us – and I bawled into his jacket. "Sam, Sam," I sobbed. "I love you so much. I love you."

He handled it well. He didn't freak out or worry, he just held me and rocked me and let me pour out my love for him. I didn't have enough words, so it soon turned into a babble of loving words.

When I was all blubbered out, Sam kissed me again. "I love you, Emily. I love you more than anything else in this world. I love you."

He helped stand up, and then slowly unzipped my dress. I was wearing a white lace bra and g-string, but he left those on. "Stay here, for a minute."

Sam disappeared into the bathroom and I sank back into the bed, not feeling at all awkward about my huge and discolored stomach for once in a very long time. I heard water running in the bathroom but I stayed where I was. Sam returned a few minutes later, in only his boxers. He took off my bra and underwear, caressing my skin with his warm hands and then kissing my stomach.

"I have a Jacuzzi bath for you." He told me, and took my hand to lead me into the bathroom, where he placed me in the giant tub, filled with bubbles and good smelling soap. He doused me with warm handfuls of water, washed me with a soft cloth, but left my hair dry. The mirror across the bathroom reflected the light from the crystals in the tiara.

He whispered worshipful things in my ear the entire time, and the tears came again. They were a little less overwhelming this time, but the feeling of total adoration for this man and belonging to him swelled in my chest until my lungs had no room to expand. As he helped me out of the tub and dried me with a fluffy white towel, I clung to his shoulders and sobbed his name over and over again.

Sam practically carried me to the wide bed again, and curled up next to me. He massaged my back and my feet with lotion, and I could have died happily. When I was completely and totally relaxed, he spooned me and wrapped his long arms around me. He was in his boxers, and I was still partially wrapped in the towel, but I had never felt as close to him as I did then.


	8. Week 37

**July 14th, 2009 – Week 37**

Sam picked up my hand and kissed my knuckles. "They're beautiful, Emily."

The midwife printed the picture with a grin on her face and wiped the gel from my stomach. "Everything is looking great. They're positioned well, neither one is presenting breech, though that will probably change in the next few weeks, heart rates are strong…everyone looks healthy. You two are very lucky."

I sighed in relief, and rolled down the hem of my shirt. Sam put his hand on my back and helped me sit up. He kissed my jaw, right next to my ear.

"I'm so proud of you."

I beamed, rubbing a hand over the top of my stomach and feeling one of the girls kick back at me.

As the midwife left, Sara came back in. "Blood work shows nothing abnormal. Your iron levels are perfect, blood pressure is good, sugar is a little high but nothing to be worried about."

"Am I okay for the homebirth?" I couldn't imagine her saying no at this point. It sounded like everything was as good as I could hope for.

"At this point, I say go ahead…but I reserve the right to change my mind if anything comes up." She warned, partially teasing.

I nodded seriously. "I won't do anything that you don't think is safe."

Sam clutched his arms around my shoulders tightly, protectively. He didn't like the idea of anything not safe.

Sara rushed to reassure him. "Right now, everything looks very good. Just the way it should for a homebirth. I just want you to be careful."

I opened my mouth, but Sam spoke first. It didn't matter, he took the words right out of my mouth. "We will be."

When we arrived back at home, the fan was still blowing into the nursery, as part of Sam's extreme plan to keep any paint fumes away from me. Also, I think it was a plan to keep the nursery design away from me for the time being. He had prevented me from being within ten feet of the door for weeks now. He wanted it to be a surprise for the new mommy.

"Sam!" I whined, as he ran ahead of me once again and spread his wide berth in front of the door. "Sooner or later I'm going to have to go in there."

"Just let me adjust one thing, and then you can go in. I promise." Sam slid inside the door and clicked it shut behind him. I leaned against the doorframe and crossed my arms. I had only seen the individual things going into the room, the paint chips, and the little bit that Sam had painted before he decided to surprise me. I had picked out a new, whitewashed rocking chair, and a purple woolen blanket during a shopping trip last month. Seth had stopped by a few days ago with identical lavender scented teddy bears, a week or so after we'd announced that the girls had been confirmed as identical.

I'd seen all the individual pieces of the nursery but Sam had been the one to put it all together. Honestly, it made me a little nervous. Kim thought I was crazy for not putting up a bigger fight, and essentially letting my husband decorate the babies' room by himself. I had never seen Sam do anything creative in his entire life, so I had no idea what the room was going to look like. Maybe the paint would be uneven, the furniture arranged all wrong, and the beds covered in bedding that would smother the girls.

It wouldn't really matter, because – in all actuality – I couldn't have done it anyway. These last few weeks, when Sam was coming home and going right into the nursery to work, I was either peeing, eating, or napping in the chair because I couldn't sleep in bed anymore. I never would have had the energy to design a nursery.

It didn't mean I wasn't worried.

Sam cracked open the door and leaned his head out. "Are you ready?"

I nodded, heaving myself off the doorframe and closing my eyes. I felt Sam step out of the way and open the door.

"Open your eyes."

I should have known that it would be perfect. As I looked around the room, I couldn't believe that I had ever doubted him.

The paint was a brilliantly even coat of purple on the top, with a border of purple daisies and white and purple stripes on the bottom. Two mobiles, made of hanging plastic purple daisies and leaves, hung over each delicately white crib. The bedding was white, a little lacy, and not excessive. Little white shelves above each crib held the teddy bears, the baby monitors and black and white pictures of our wedding, framed in green. In one, Sam was holding my belly, and in the other, he was knelt in front of me, kissing it. The rocking chair sat in the corner by the window, my purple blanket draped over the arm carelessly. The changing table, clad in bedding that matched the cribs, was against the wall, under the windows. The little dresser in the corner opposite the rocking chair already housed tiny purple socks and little white slippers from the baby shower. Above the white valance on the window, a piece of green vinyl wall art read, "A world to blossom under your footsteps."

Sam was watching me examine the room. "Emily?"

I had no words, so instead I whirled to find him standing behind me in the doorway, seeing more things as I turned – a green clock on the wall to the right of the door, the dimmer switch on the light panel – and I rushed toward him. "Sam, Sam! It's perfect! Better than I'd ever dreamed." The girls heartily agreed, kicking rapidly in my stomach. "I love it."

His face lit up, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, proud of his handiwork. We had talked about his role as a father and what he was doing during my pregnancy to fulfill that role, and he had mentioned that he felt it was his duty to build his girls a safe, loving environment. "You did a wonderful job," I praised him.

Sam wrapped his long arms around me, my stomach getting in the way more and more, and I kissed his mouth.

"They'll be such happy babies!" I promised him.

He rumpled my hair, "They won't even be able to see the color."

"So?" I snorted, "They'll be safe, warm and surrounded by flowers. What else could a baby want?"

We kissed for a few more minutes, before I pulled away to further examine the nursery.

Sam laughed at my fascination, but instead of leaving me alone, he took my hand and showed me every little detail, right down to the daisy knobs on the dresser drawers.

* * *

I had a hard time walking now, instead I waddled my way around the house on swollen ankles. I had gained 50 lbs since November, a number that was added to significantly by my cravings for carbs. In the last two months, all I wanted was rice, pasta and bread. Sam was near perfect, always making whatever I asked for, but making me eat vegetables and meat every night for dinner. He was crazy about my health, which was a good thing. I found it annoyingly endearing.

At the moment, I was waddling through the bedroom, trying desperately to get into a pair of maternity jeans without jumping up and down, my hair tied up in a ponytail and one of Sam's hoodies covering my **very** large stomach. Once the jeans were buttoned, under my belly, unfortunately, I sat on the bed and looked down at my bare feet. As much as would have loved to wear sandals, they simply weren't conducive to my current size and coordination.

"Sam!" I called cheerfully.

"Coming!" he replied, and was at the door in a matter of minutes. "What?"

I waved one bare foot at him and he grinned.

"Need some help?"

I stuck my tongue out at him, teasing, "Yes, please."

Sam grabbed a pair of white socks from the dresser, and then knelt at my feet. I had needed his help with socks for two weeks now, and he did it differently every time. I was a little anxious to see what he had planned for today.

He picked up one foot by the back of my ankle, looked up at me through long, black eyelashes, and kissed the top of each of my toes. He licked his way up my ankle, eliciting a mortifyingly loud moan from me, before blowing hot breath all the way up the inner seams of my jeans as he slid the first sock over my foot. By the time he reached the apex of my thighs, I was whimpering. He shot me a sly grin, skipped right over my center and proceeded down the other seam, while sliding on the other sock. Next, he reached for my shoes, never once breaking eye contact as he put them on and laced them up. Finished, he placed my feet back on the ground.

"Sam!" I groaned.

Winking, he leaned forward and pressed a single, light kiss to the fabric covering my center. "A promise for later."

I tried to reach out and hit him, but I was too late and I swiped at thin air. Sam grabbed my hand and helped me up. "You suck." I retorted.

Sam just laughed. "Are you ready to leave?"

I rolled my eyes, "Not really."

"Emily, come on." He pulled my hand and dragged me out the door, my swollen feet and legs hurrying to keep up so I wouldn't fall on my face. "It'll be fun. We haven't been out in ages."

I would hardly call a pack bonfire "going out" but it meant a lot to Sam and he had been a saint these last few weeks, as I got progressively crankier, fatter and less mobile. It wouldn't be very fun for me, everyone touching me and gooing at my belly, but I put on a smile and followed Sam to the car. He refused to carry me on his back anywhere nowadays, a safety decision I had agreed with.

* * *

Jacob, Seth and Leah were just walking out of the trees as we pulled up in the car. Jake pulled me to his chest and kissed my hair.

Sam growled playfully in his direction, "Get your hands off my girl, Black!" Jake tilted his head back and roared with laughter.

"Don't worry – Nessie will be here soon!"

I grinned happily. I loved Nessie, and she and Claire made great playmates, at least for the time being.

We walked to the fire site together, meeting Jared and Kim on the way there. They told us that Quil, Claire, Paul and many of the new, younger wolves were already at the fire, just waiting for Jake and Sam to arrive. This story telling would be a lot more crowded than any of the ones before.

Everyone was busy talking, eating and drinking when we walked into the clearing. Sam claimed an empty log, and spread a blanket on the ground before it. He sat down on the log, and then helped me lower myself onto the blanket so that I could rest my head on his outstretched legs. Seth brought us some burgers (one for me and four for Sam) and two bottles of water. Sam was being a good sport an abstaining from alcohol with me.

Edward showed up a few minutes later, placing Nessie in Jake's waiting arms. He only hung around for a moment, waving to Sam and I, before he left. The treaty was all but abolished now – the Cullens free to roam on our lands and us on theirs – but it still felt a little strange. Nessie kissed Jake's cheek and he hugged her tighter, missing each other after only hours apart. I knew the feeling all too well.

When Old Quil and Billy showed up, along with Sue Clearwater, I handed over the notebook, knowing that I wouldn't last very long in wake of the comfortable heat of the fire and Sam playing with my hair. Sure enough, halfway through the first Taha Aki story, I was feeling my eyelids droop and my head sway.

I fought to stay awake, but soon Sam bent his head and whispered in my ear. "Sleep, sweetie, I'll wake you when it's time to go."

I tried to nod, but nestled my head into Sam's lap instead. Within minutes, I was fast asleep.

* * *

True to his word, Sam gently shook me awake as everyone else was leaving. "Emily, darling." I opened my eyelids slowly, taking in Sam's face in the glow of the fire.

"Hello, sleepyhead." Sam reached down and lifted me out of the sand, carrying me bridal style in his arms to the car. The cool beach breeze was waking me up, and I rolled down the window to breathe in the fresh air.

"How was it?" I asked, as Sam drove us home.

He took my hand in the darkness. "The younger guys really loved it."

"It's a fascinating history to be a part of." Suddenly, in my sleep-ridden state, I heard myself utter a question I had planned to save for when the girls were born. "Sam? Do you think the girls will change?"

His head snapped around to look at me, and he placed a hand on my stomach. "No, Emily, I don't."

"But, Leah –"

"Leah was a special exception. I don't think she can…have children…so she can't pass on the bloodline." He took a deep breath and continued, "I think it's much more likely that our girls will be imprinted on." He broke into a wide smile, "They do have a pretty impressive heritage."

"Yeah, I guess." We both rubbed my womb absentmindedly. "When are we going to tell them?"

"As soon as they're old enough." Sam said decidedly.

I looked out the window, my braids flying in the breeze coming through the window. "I can't wait to tell the bedtime stories about their ancestors "

Sam kissed my hand. "I loved the tribal stories as a kid, but we should fully inform them sooner or later – let's not wait until they figure it out for themselves, or until one of Jared's kids changes in front of them."

He pulled up to the house, and was around to my side in a few seconds, opening the door and helping me out. I kicked off my shoes the minute we got in the door, leaning on Sam's arm for balance. However, not even a place to lean could steady me, and I fell forward, landing on my knees, with one hand halfway on Sam's arm and one hand on his crotch.

"Emily!" Sam yelled, "Are you okay?"

I was fine, but instead of answering with words, I rubbed my hand purposefully against his jeans. He moaned, pulling me up from the floor with one hand.

"What the hell was that?"

I pulled him down by his collar and kissed him, "Payback for teasing me earlier."

He nipped at my ear, "It's not teasing if I plan on following through."

* * *

The following morning, we were awakened harshly by a rap on the door. We had opposite reactions; Sam jumped out of bed and pulled on boxers from the floor, while I clutched the comforter closer around my naked stomach.

He bent to kiss me before running to the door, "be right back."

I waited until the front door closed before I rolled out of bed and pulled a pair of sweatpants on, with the hoodie from last night. "Sam? Who was it?"

He grunted in response, and I hurried out of the room. Sam was lugging a large cardboard box into the living room.

"Is that…?" I asked, eagerly.

Sam dropped the box in the middle of the room, and gestured toward it grandly. "Our birthing pool!"

I waddled over as fast as I could and Sam helped me lower myself to the floor. He wrapped his arms around my stomach, my back to his chest, and we read the booklet together. He rubbed my womb, soothing the girls, and kissed my neck.

"It's almost time." He whispered in my ear.

* * *

_This was a very quick update, and I hope you enjoyed it! The next chapter will be the home birth, but I've lost the copy of the chapter I was working from, so I'll have to totally rewrite it. You can expect to see it in the next few weeks. Thanks again for reading, and please take the time to review!_


	9. Week 38

_Well, this came together much faster than I expected it to. Enjoy - it's what we've all been waiting for. _

* * *

**July 23rd, 2009 – Week 38**

Sam knew better than to wake me in the morning when he left for work, because I hadn't fallen asleep until the early hours of the morning, and that was only with the help of my giant foam body pillow. Sam was annoyed by it, claiming that it was taking his place, but I insisted and he eventually caved. He would just have to sleep a little closer to the edge of the bed. I needed the soft support of the body pillow, now that my stomach had grown to an outrageous size and my back was in constant pain.

So Sam kissed my head and snuck out the door at eight that morning. Around eleven, I lifted my head, checking the time and noticing the pictures from my last visit to the birth center, to see Sara, three days ago. My girls were still in the perfect position for a home birth, luckily, and everything else still looked good. The ultra-sound images were taped, slightly askew, to the mirror above our dresser. Each black and white frame got progressively more distinguished, until I swore I could tell that they would look just like Sam.

I lay in bed for awhile longer, watching the sun filter in through tiny cracks in the blinds. At 11:15, I rolled onto my back and placed my hand on my stomach. This was the time each day when I monitored the babies' movement, counting the number of kicks and punches. The girls were just waking up, stretching out, squirming.

"Good morning," I murmured, as I rubbed my stomach and felt their kicks press into my hand.

They were a little more active than usual, and I received several kicks to the bladder as I was hauling my frame out of the bed and into the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and hair, securing back and out of the way with a few clips. I would shower later.

I shuffled down the hall in my slippers, pouring myself a glass of orange juice and sitting at the table with a plain bagel and some cream cheese. I pushed my back against the chair as an uncomfortable contraction hit. I had been told that it was normal to experience a few, relatively painless, contractions everyday from now on, especially with twins. They had been sporadic over the last two weeks, nothing new. During this last week, they had begun to be a bit uncomfortable, but I attributed it to what had to be a lack of room in my womb at this point.

The contraction went away less than a minute later, like usual, and I moved to the dishes. I hadn't emptied the dishwasher yesterday, so I had a lot to unload. I tended to avoid it as much as possible, since my overly large stomach prevented me from seeing the door to the dishwasher and I had a nasty habit of running into it, leaving ugly bruises on my legs, which Sam was never happy to see.

After bending and lifting the dishes for ten minutes, I had another contraction.

"Owww," I protested aloud, rubbing my back. I kicked the door to the dishwasher shut, refusing to bend over to pick it up. Pouring myself a cup of the raspberry tea that Sara had recommended to help prepare my uterus for labor, I picked up the phone and settled into the couch. Propping my feet up on the coffee table, I dialed my mother.

"Emily?" She answered on the first ring, her voice loud and tinged with excitement. She was just waiting for the phone call telling her I was in labor. Every time she picked up the phone, she was ready to jump in her car and rush over. I almost felt guilty calling without any news.

"Hey, Mom. How are you?"

"Oh, Emily…" She didn't bother hiding her disappointment. "I'm fine. How are you doing?"

I swallowed a big gulp of my tea, "The Braxton Hicks contractions are getting worse. Which I suppose is actually a good sign."

"Very good sign! Keep count, you know – one every five minutes, a minute long each and you call someone."

"I know, Mom." I rolled my eyes. Everyone was an expert. "I will."

"How's Sam?"

"He had to work this morning, but he's doing well. He's getting excited."

She chortled. "He'd better be."

We talked for about a half an hour – she had been embroidering two white deerskin and fleece lined blankets for the girls and was planning on bringing them for the labor. As another, more painful contraction started, I looked up at the clock. 15 minutes on the dot since the last one. I grimaced.

"Hey, Mom?" I asked, hesitant. "I'm going to go get a bath, and see if it slows these contractions, okay?"

"Call me if it doesn't."

"Got it, love you." I hung up the phone and waddled to the bathroom. When I sat down to pee, I noticed the tell-tale stringy mucus from my plug. "Okay then," I whispered to myself, "this could be it."

I checked the binder from my midwife; she said that even after you passed your plug, you could be days or even weeks away from full-blown labor. I began to fill the bathtub while I phoned Sara.

I got her voicemail. "Hey Sara, it's Emily. I am just calling – it's a little after noon – to let you know that I've passed my mucus plug. I've been having contractions all morning, maybe 40 seconds long, every 15 to 20 minutes. I'm going to climb in the bathtub, but I'll keep my phone with me. Thanks! Bye."

I knew that I was probably being overly cautious, but I didn't want to press my luck with this home birth. And these were my first children, and I really was nervous, no matter how calm I tried to remain. I decided that I would wait an hour after I got out of the bath, and if the contractions didn't slow, I would call Sam. I wanted him here for all of it.

I added a few nettles – another herbal remedy from Sara – to the bathwater, stripped down and sunk in. The girls kicked for a few minutes, the buoyant warmth exciting them, but they calmed eventually. I kept my hair up, twisted out of the way, and leaned back against the wall of the shower – just as another contraction hit. I noted the time on my phone; fourteen minutes since the last one.

I stayed quietly in the tub for almost forty-five minutes, to no avail. I had a total of three contractions. I pulled the drain plug up and used the sides of the tub to help myself out. I didn't want to be falling now. Yet, as I lifted my leg over the side of the tub, a gush of warm fluid rushed down my legs and onto the floor.

"Shit!" I managed to get out of the tub, throwing a towel down over the puddle of amniotic fluid, and wrapped a towel around my body haphazardly. Grabbing my phone, I waddled as quickly as I could to the bedroom, where I put on a pair of Sam's sweatpants and no panties, and then a bikini top. I was going to get in the tub anyway, right?

I started on my way back to the bathroom, to clean up that mess on the floor, as I called Sam. When it stopped ringing, I didn't even wait for him to say hello. "Sam! It's time! They're coming."

"Be right there!"

* * *

I ended up feeling really guilty.

Sam nearly took off Seth's head when he got in his way on the way home, which prompted Seth to explain to Leah _why_ exactly Sam was running home at full speed. Within the hour, I had everyone but my midwife – and my mother, who was "_ON HER WAY" – _in my living room.

I was working through the contractions, now 50 seconds long and 10 or so minutes apart, squatting comfortably on the birthing ball, with Sam rubbing my back in encouragement, when Leah and Hannah arrived. "Emily!" Leah rushed to my side and dropped to her knees in front of me. "Are you okay?"

I lifted my head and smiled at her. "I'm perfectly fine, Leah, just trying to relax."

Hannah looked at the now inflated, but still empty, pool. "What about the water?"

Sam kneaded the muscles in my back, very gently. "Later, Mom." He snipped. I rolled my eyes at him, looking back over my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Hannah. Sam is just nervous-"

He swatted at me playfully. "Like you aren't."

I laughed, which hurt my tense abdominal muscles. "Sam is just nervous and it's making him cranky. We haven't filled the pool because I don't need it yet, and we don't want it to get cold."

"You don't need it yet?" Leah asked, doubtful. She raised one eyebrow.

"I really am fine, guys. I'm not even close to active labor yet. It's going to be awhile." I tried to sound upbeat. I felt really bad; they had come to help me and I was hours away from needing help. "In fact, why don't you go home for a little while?"

Sam nodded. "I'll call you when she's five centimeters, okay?"

"I want to be here," Hannah scowled. "If I miss the birth of my grandbabies, I'm blaming you Sam."

Leah just squeezed my hand, and patted my head. "We'll get out of your hair for now. Sorry for rushing over here."

I rushed to explain. "Don't be sorry! I want you guys here, it's just not practical right now."

"We understand," Hannah kissed my cheek, "We'll see you later."

Sam laughed when, as they closed the door behind them, I breathed a small sigh of relief. "If you don't want them here, we can pretend that things got really fast towards the end or something."

"Sam!" I stuck my tongue out. "I just didn't want them to spend 30-some hours waiting by my side. They'll get bored."

He bent around to kiss my lips. "I know, I love that you're so considerate." When he pulled back, I caught a glimpse of his cheesy grin. He was flattering me.

"Oh, shut up and rub my back."

* * *

My mother arrived at 3:00 in the afternoon, after getting stuck in traffic. She rang the doorbell continuously until Sam opened it and pulled her into a hug. "Hey, Jennifer."

"Sam, where's Emily?"

I was lounging on the bed, still in my sweatpants and bikini top, with a towel rolled up under my back to help ease the tension of on my back muscles. "In here, Mom!" I called.

She followed my voice and was in the room in seconds. "Emily!" Swooping in on top of me, she wrapped me in her arms and kissed the top of my head. "I'm so proud of you! You're doing so well!"

"It hasn't been too hard yet." I crossed my fingers. "It's going pretty slow. Contractions are still 8 minutes apart, and only last about a minute."

Sam interrupted, coming over to take my hand. "Speaking of which…"

I glanced at the clock just as the contraction came, coming to a tense and dull peak. I was breathing slowly, squeezing Sam's hand, but I would have been able to talk through it if I had wanted to.

My mother observed. "Not bad, not bad," she mused.

"How long do you think?" I asked.

She smiled knowingly. "A while, sweetie."

I nodded, accepting. I knew that. It was just nice to hear it from someone else. "I think I'll take a walk. Sam?"

"I'll be right behind you."

"Would it be alright for me to begin heating water for the pool?" My mother extended a hand to help me pull myself into a sitting position.

"That would be great – we're going to need a lot of hot water," I replied as Sam crouched at my feet with a pair of socks and some shoes. I warned him with my eyes not to try anything funny. I wasn't exactly in the mood. He winked, but kept his hands to himself. I grabbed a tank top and slipped it on over my bikini, and then grabbed Sam's arm. He helped me down the porch steps, and then held my hand as we walked down the street.

"Are you nervous?" he asked me, "Because you're handling this really well."

I looked at him, incredulous. "Are you kidding?"

He didn't answer.

"Sam, I'm terrified," I confessed. "I think I would have to be crazy not to be terrified."

As another contraction arrived, I forced myself to keep moving through it. Sam watched me, worried, as I tensed. "Emily?"

I took a deep breath. "It's fine. I'm okay. It's really not that bad."

But within the hour – walking up and down the street because there was nowhere to go – I had to stop and lean on Sam every six minutes.

"Okay," I panted, "I need a break."

It took us ten minutes and two contractions to get back to the house. By the time we had reached the door, I was panting hard, and sweating. Sam steered me towards the couch, but that was not working for me. I went to the bathroom, noticing a bit more bloody show, and then got out the ball again.

"Help please?" I called. My mother came running over, as Sam was calling Sara.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Hold the ball steady," I slowly lowered myself to the floor, spreading my knees and sinking low into the ground. I leaned against the ball, using it to support my upper body.

Soon, Sam joined me, rubbing my back affectionately. He was being so wonderful. "Thanks," I sighed.

"Sara will be here soon, Em. She wants to check your cervix – she says that you're in active labor." Sam sounded reassuring. "She said that we're doing all the right things."

I just nodded, waiting for the next contraction. When it came, I let my breath out in a low, primal moan.

"Good! That's good!" My mom encouraged. "Just relax. Being tense won't help the girls come out any sooner."

* * *

Sara arrived at a little after six; carting with her all of the supplies that I would need for a twin home birth. I didn't want to get in the tub before she arrived, so my mom was doing a great job in keeping the water at 100 degrees, as water too hot could be detrimental to the girls.

"Hey miss Emily!" Sara was always over enthusiastic. "How are you feeling?"

I smiled back at her. "I'm doing okay."

"Give me an update." She whipped out her baby Doppler, preparing to check on the girls.

I looked at Sam; he was in charge of the clock.

"Emily's contractions are a little less than five minutes apart and 90 seconds long."

Sara clapped. "Yay! That's great!"

I took a big swallow of my glass of water, knowing that I would have to have an IV if I didn't stay hydrated.

"Glad to see that you're still drinking like I told you." Sara lifted up the hem of my tank top, but I just peeled it off. She pressed the wand to my stomach, and the quiet double "wooshes" could be heard throughout the room.

Sam picked up my hand and held it to his lips. "They're almost here, Em."

I waited for Sara to make the final proclamation. She pressed around on my stomach – the top, both sides and the bottom – with a calculating expression on her face. Moving the Doppler around a little more, she finally stood back up and clapped me on the back.

"Things are looking well. Baby #2 is in a breech position, but that will be okay. Hopefully she'll come out second."

I bit my lip. "Are you sure everything is fine?"

Sara looked into my eyes. "Are you ready to do this Emily?"

I nodded, wholeheartedly.

"Okay then. Everything is fine. Let's check your cervix." Sam helped me off the birthing ball and to the bed, where I reclined on my back for a while. Sara slipped on some gloves and, after a few minutes of prodding, announced, "four centimeters."

"Sam, call your mother and Leah." I ordered, as another contraction tightened my back and abdominal muscles, and I rolled onto my side. "OOOOOH."

I struggled to keep my tone low, not tight and screeching, as I vocalized.

"Great job, Emily!" Sara encouraged, and then helped me up and into the pool. "Sam, why don't you call your doctor at the hospital as well, just in case? Tell her to be on standby."

The water was warm, and the relief to the muscles in my back was almost instantaneous. "Wow." I closed my eyes and leaned against the side of the pool. "Mnmnmmm."

Sam chuckled. "I think she likes it."

* * *

8:00pm came and I was at 7 centimeters. I had eaten a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, although I wasn't happy about it, and drunk another bottle of water. The contractions were outrageously painful now, but not unmanageable. Leah was rubbing my feet, while Sam sat behind me in the water – we had made sure to get a large pool – and kneaded my back.

We tried gentle nipple stimulation when I got stuck at 8 centimeters for a while at 10:00pm, and then I moved quickly.

Soon, Sara was proclaiming the transition and I was howling in pain. Sam supported my back while I squirmed in the tub. I was determined to do this myself, without the hospital or pain meds.

"Son of a bitch!" I yelled – flushed, hot and dripping water everywhere. "Please, Sam, distract me," I gasped.

"With what?" he asked desperately.

"Anything!"

Leah was drying my face off with a towel, as both the mothers and Sara prepared for birth, with a few drop clothes, and an oxygen mask, because Baby #2 had a higher chance of needing air when she came out.

"Sam!"

Finally, perhaps after hearing me yell, he gave in. "Anything?"

I growled at him.

"Okay! Um…I don't really like the names we talked about." Sam looked away, kissing my shoulder.

It worked and I blinked, momentarily forgetting about the absolute pain of transition. "What?"

He shook his head. "Never mind."

"Did you just say –" I started and was interrupted by the need to take a breath to stem the pain, " – say that you didn't like the baby names?"

"Never mind. It's not important."

I splashed the water. "It is so important! Sam! We have to talk about this!"

"No we don't. You can name them whatever you want," he insisted.

"But," I whined, "I've been rethinking them too - but I was going along because I thought that you really liked them!"

Sam broke out laughing.

"This is NOT funny, Sam!"

He coughed to cover it up, unsuccessfully. "You're right, Em, I'm sorry."

I wanted to cry. "What are we going to do?"

Suddenly, an immense pain knotted in my abdomen. "Oh, shit," I moaned, hoping the sound would relax me.

Sam coached me through breathing. "You're doing great, Emily."

"Transition isn't going to last much longer," Sara called. "You're almost there."

"Dammit, Sam! What are we going to do about the names?" I clenched my fists.

He caressed my shoulders. "Let's just focus on getting them out, and we'll name them once we meet them."

I was too tense to answer. "Ughhhhhnnnngggg." I focused on not locking up – working through the transition.

"Keep it up, darling." Sam kissed the skin on my neck, pushing hair out of the way. "You're doing so well."

I didn't know how I was going to have the strength to push if this kept up for much longer. "Oh…okay! This isn't working."

Sara was over by my side in a second. "Don't give up, Emily. What can I do?"

"I need to do something else," I pleaded, frantic with the absolute pain.

"Okay," she complied. "Why don't you try squatting in the pool?"

Sam moved onto his knees, and got in front of me. Holding his arms out like a squat bar, I grabbed on for support. I sank into a crouched position, enjoying the extra space and suspension this provided.

"How's that?" Sara questioned.

"Much better," I grunted as the gravity helped relieve my shaking muscles.

"It won't be too long, now," she assured me.

In fact, two contractions later I was shaking uncontrollably and I thought I was going to be sick. I collapsed against the wall of the pool, throwing my head back. Sara handed me a bottle of water right away.

"Okay, relax. You'll have a few minutes to catch your breath before you have to push." She instructed. Sam was twisting his hands nervously from a few feet away. "Sam? Can you help me get her out of here?"

He practically picked me up, helping me out of the tub, where I lay against the ball on the floor, a drop cloth underneath me.

Sara continued, "Jennifer, Hannah and Leah, help me drain the pool outside?"

While Sam stayed with me, the women dumped the water out of the pool and quickly filled it back up with new, clean, and warm water. I kept breathing and moaning with each contraction, Sam holding my hand and keeping the ball steady. "Sam?"

"Hm?" came his reply.

"I'm sorry about the name thing."

He leaned forward and captured my lips with his. "Don't even think about it Emily. We'll name them later. Let's just get them out of there."

At half past two in the morning, the contractions were replaced by a strong, irresistible urge to push. "Sara! Sam!" I cried. "Can I push?"

Sam hopped into the pool with me, helping to hold me in my half-sitting/half-squatting position.

"If you feel ready," Sara explained, "then go for it. Your body knows what it's doing." Turning to Sam, she added, "Might be a good time to get in one last perineal massage."

Sam agreed, and began to gently stretch the skin between my legs, hoping to prevent any tearing. But soon another contraction was hitting and I held my breath, pushing down naturally. I didn't last a full 10 seconds – maybe 8 – but when Sara rolled up her shorts and hopped into the pool as well, she said that baby #1 was in the birthing canal and ready to go. The process repeated every minute, with more of me stretching with each contraction. I let out low, guttural sounds, my damp hair cascading down my back and my eyes tightly shut. It felt like I was going to split in two. I must have zoned out for a little while, because soon, Sara was moving my hand down and I was feeling a little head, covered in thick hair.

Sam reached down between my legs to feel it as well, also supporting my skin to keep it from ripping.

"Oh, Emily! You're doing so well!"

"She's right there!"

"So close!"

All the words of encouragement flew around me, but I was looking straight at Sam and all I could think was _She's right there. My daughter. Our daughter. She's right there._

I pushed again and again, wailing at the top of my lungs. As I felt her shoulders slip past, I called out. "Sam!"

He caught our beautiful daughter, bringing her right up to the top of the water. She was slightly purple, but her eyes were opening. I picked her up and cradled her to my chest, taking deep breaths. Sara examined her while I held her, asking for the baster to suction out her mouth and then holding the oxygen mask close to her mouth to help her pink up.

I bent to kiss her, and then passed her to Sam, who did the same. He looked into my eyes, brushing hair off my forehead. "I am so proud of you."

I smiled, but took a deep breath and admitted, "It's not over yet."

Sara recommended that I nurse my first daughter, to bring on contractions for the second. My mom came over and helped me to get my little girl to latch onto my nipple. While I breastfed, Sara monitored Baby #2 with the Doppler.

Fifteen minutes after my first little girl, I had another contraction. Passing my baby off to my mother, who was very close to me on the outside of the pool, I resumed my squatting position. However, after a few minutes without any success, it was apparent that squatting wasn't working as well the second time. Still having contractions, we cut the first daughter's cord and moved me to the bed, where I got on my hands and knees. Sam rubbed my back while Sara knelt behind me.

"Pushing!" I announced, as the next contraction came.

Sam patted my shoulders. "I can see little feet!"

The legs came out relatively easily, but Sara stopped my pushing to move the cord when it looked like it was stuck between my walls and the baby. While Sam, Leah, and our mothers watched on, Sara successfully maneuvered my baby around, until, with one final push, my second daughter came rushing into the world. She was wailing, I was crying and Sam was trying to hide some sniffles. I rolled over, and reached for my little girl. Leah handed me a soft cloth, and I wiped her face, kissing her little eyelids.

Sam sat down on the bed next to me. While Sara and my mother helped to clean me up, Sam and I held our two new baby girls.

"I love you," I whispered in his ear.

He wiped a tear away from his cheek and bent to kiss me. "I love you, too, Emily. And I'm so proud of you. You were amazing."

* * *

_Well, I hope that lived up to your expectations. :]_

_There will be one more chapter after this, set a few weeks into the future. I'll probably have it up (along with an outtake) before the end of the month. Thanks, and please leave a review!_


	10. Week 41

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_**August 10**__**th**__**, 2009 - Week 41**_

**Sam's POV**

My fingers were aching as I licked, sealed and stamped the last envelope of birth announcements. Slipping it into the pile, I picked up an extra announcement and read it.

"Introducing the newest members of the Uley family: Violet Jennifer Uley, born on July 24th, 2009, at 1:13am, 5 lbs 7 oz, 17'' and Hannah Rose Uley, born on July 24th, at 12:41 am, 6 lbs, 1 oz, 17.5"." The words were written over a picture of the girls, taken just a few days ago. Hannah had the cutest expression on her face, confusion and wonder, and Violet was simply looking into the lens inquisitively.

I remembered the long conversations leading up to the choosing of their names, after we had sent home our mothers and sat up all night with our new daughters. Emily had been dead set on the flowers, Violet and Rose. She said they were perfect, purple and pink – complementary but not the same. I liked the idea, and trusted Emily, so I agreed…on the condition that we make one flower a middle name instead of having both of them as first names. When Em asked what I had in mind for first names, I hesitated. We had never discussed naming them after people in the family and neither Emily nor I had a tradition of family names, but she loved the idea of naming them for our mothers. She said it would be like giving them built-in role models.

After that, it wasn't hard to decide which order the names should go in and who should get which one. Jennifer Rose and Violet Hannah just didn't sound right; we both agreed on that right away. The origin of the word violet is French and little baby #2, with her contented smile and plump pink lips, was somehow sophisticated at only a few hours old. We hastily wrote Violet Jennifer Uley in the blank on the birth certificate. Then there was tiny Hannah Rose, with eager grasping hands and a toothless semi-smile. The names simply fell into place when we looked down at them in our arms.

Emily appeared in the doorframe of the nursery and pulled me from my memories. "Sam!" she hissed, holding a suckling Hannah against her chest and a drooping Violet on her hip. "Help, please."

I bounded out of my chair and plucked Violet from Emily's arms. "Sorry, Em, I was finishing up with the announcements."

"That's fine," Emily assured me, "it's just that Vi's almost asleep and Hannah will be soon, and I really could use a shower. Could you put her down for me?"

I had already begun to walk slowly around the room, rubbing Vi's back and humming low in her ear. "I got this one. Don't worry." Emily sighed in relief and went back to the nursery to sit in the rocking chair and nurse. As I walked Violet to sleep, I gazed through the door at Emily breastfeeding.

Hannah, or baby #1 as she was then, had latched on quickly and with little problems. Her first feeding session, however, had been cut short by Violet's arrival. Emily was excited to tandem breastfeed right away, and was heartbroken when she didn't have enough milk to nurse both of our girls. Fortunately, Sara was still there, and she worked with Em. She told her to stay in bed for three days, recovering and simply feeding whenever the girls were hungry.

At first thought, I was scared out of my mind. I was going to have to do everything for three days? Not that I wouldn't have done it – I would do anything for Em and the girls – but it was overwhelming.

It turned out to be much better than that. Em took care of anything related to baby care (changing, feeding and bathing) while I took care of the house and supported her. After three days in bed with Hannah and Violet, Emily was tandem feeding and pumping milk to spare. Her nipples were often sore, and I eagerly obliged with lanolin cream, soft massages, and cold packs when she was engorged.

Violet began to softly snore in my ear, making me grin. I cradled her in my arm and slipped into the nursery, placing her gently into her crib in the nursery, where Emily was struggling to get Hannah off to sleep. I reached out. "I'll take her. Go shower, or sleep."

Emily handed Hannah off to me gratefully and I kissed her cheek as she walked past. Sitting in the rocking chair, I looked down at Hannah, who was gurgling happily. "Go to sleep, Hannah Banana," I whispered. "Look," I hoisted her up over my shoulder so that she could see into Violet's crib, "your sister is beating you."

I put her head down on my shoulder and her thumb went into her mouth right away. "That's it!" I encouraged and began to rock back and forth.

It was a little harder to tell when Hannah had gone to sleep, as she didn't snore like Violet did. Twice I stopped rocking and Hannah looked at me, as if to say "Why'd you stop?"

Finally, after I heard the water from Emily's shower turn off, I lifted Hannah to find that she was fast asleep. Smiling, I lowered her into a crib, grabbed the baby monitors and dimmed the lights on the way out.

Emily was lying on the bed, one arm thrown over her eyes, hair wet and leaving spots on the blanket. The bed squeaked when I sat down next to her.

"How are you feeling?"

Emily hummed as she sat up. "Less inadequate than yesterday," she muttered, trying to sound disinterested but really just hiding her admission.

I reached out and grabbed both of her shoulders. "I swear to god, Emily, the next time you say that, I'm giving the girls to your mother and flying you to the Caribbean."

She cracked a smile. "Sorry."

"You should be," I insisted, "this is perfectly normal and you are **not** inadequate. You are the best mother I've ever seen."

Emily rolled her eyes.

A week after the girls were born, Emily revealed that she had been feeling inadequate and ashamed, had been excessively tired and felt like she wasn't bonding well with the girls. Sara had told me what to look out for in PPD, or postpartum depression, and I buckled Em in the car and took her to the birth center.

It turned out that it wasn't PPD; just a case of the baby blues. Sara assured us that it was normal, especially for parents of twins who weren't getting nearly enough sleep. It was caused partially by sleep deprivation and mostly by the drop in Emily's hormone levels after delivery. She told us that 80% of women experience it, and it was nothing to be worried about. However, I was under strict instructions to do my best in supporting Emily and ensuring that she knew what a wonderful mother she was. I took my job seriously.

I propped Em up against my back and grabbed a brush off the table. Keeping her nestled in my arms, I gently pulled the brush through her thick, dark hair, working it into a braid. When the braid had been twisted up and knotted in place, I pressed a kiss below her ear. "Love you."

"Love you, too." She twisted around to press herself into my chest. "Thanks."

"No problem," I pulled her down onto the bed, wrapped in my arms. "Let's get some sleep ourselves, shall we?"

Emily grabbed the baby monitors, turned them up and placed them on the pillow, next to my ear. I had the better hearing, so it was my job to wake with the girls. After she was sure that they were loud enough, she curled into my side and closed her eyes. With Emily asleep within minutes, I spent a while just watching her.

She was everything in my world, and she was perfect. I let a finger trail down her scar, and shuddered. When I finally fell asleep, my hand was on Emily's face and there was a strange pricking at the corners of my eyes.

#

Carlisle stopped by early the next morning, as Emily was finishing up feeding the girls. He offered his hand for me to shake as he stepped inside. "I don't believe that I have congratulated you yet, Sam."

"Thanks, Carlisle." I grinned, shaking his hand and leading him back to the nursery, where Em was lounging in the rocking chair, the pillow on her lap supporting both Hannah and Violet and a blanket draped over each shoulder, protecting her modesty.

"Good morning Emily," he greeted her, gently touching the top of her head. Somewhere inside of me, the wolf growled, but I forced him back, certain that there couldn't be a better pediatrician for my girls.

"Morning," Emily replied, and attempted to pull Hannah off of her chest.

Carlisle quickly interrupted her. "Don't stop on my account. There's plenty I can do while they're eating."

Emily relaxed, and I leaned against the wall behind the rocking chair. Carlisle asked us questions about everything – their "schedules", sleeping patterns, growth, appetites, feeding positions – and when Violet finally gave up on Em's nipple, I took her and handed her gently over.

Carlisle had put on a pair of gloves as to not startle the girls with his cold hands, and Violet took to him right away. Gooing happily, she kicked around on the changing table. He weighed her in a scale he had brought, and pronounced that she was putting on plenty of weight and there was nothing to be worried about.

Hannah was a little more skeptical of the pale doctor, and she stuck her thumb in her mouth as soon as he picked her up. She hadn't gained as much weight as her sister, but Carlisle said not to worry, as she had started off bigger in the first place. Emily visibly relaxed as she saw proof that she was doing well, and her babies were healthy.

"When can I take them outside?" she asked eagerly.

The doctor flipped open his tiny silver cell phone, capturing the girls' attention, and listened to someone intently. "Thank you, Alice," he replied and hung up. Turning to Emily and I, he said, "Alice tells me that it will be very warm and sunny tomorrow. I can't see why you shouldn't have a picnic."

Emily beamed, delighted. She had been looking forward to taking the girls for walks and sitting on the lawn outside, but was worried about what the damp weather would do to such new lungs.

Carlisle shook both of our hands, "Keep doing what you're doing and these will be very healthy, happy babies," and he slipped out the front door.

Emily threw her arms around my neck, pulling me down to kiss me in celebration. "They're healthy," she whispered into my mouth.

"Thank god," I returned, and then pulled her mouth to mine again.

#

Even when we got the word that the girls we healthy, Em wouldn't let anyone near her babies. Sue Clearwater came over, and Emily waved from inside the nursery; She invited Leah over, but clutched the girls close to her sides; Quil brought his mother and Claire, but Em made them stay in the living room; Kim and Jared came but Emily insisted that the girls needed to sleep. I did my best to explain to everyone that the girls had been born a little early, and that they were very small, and Emily was just worried for their safety.

All of the mothers understood, smiling and laughing, nodding at me and telling stories from when they were new mothers and worried for their own children. Leah and Kim, however, were a tad upset about the denial of visitation rights. Claire also stamped her feet impatiently, until Quil flashed me a grin and led her away with the promise of ice cream.

And with all the guests came more and more presents. Apparently, shopping for babies – especially twin baby girls – was very entertaining. Emily and I got more clothes than we ever thought possible, in a wide range of sizes because everyone assured us that they would grow out of their clothing insanely fast. Alongside the clothes came blankets, stuffed animals, books, toys and a few pair of the smallest shoes ever known to man.

Emily fawned over every onesie, every pair of socks, and every doll. She put some of it in the nursery right away (the two silver rattles from Kim went on the shelves above their cribs), and kept most of it in boxes in their closet, for later, when they were a bit older. It was my job, instead, to write the countless thank you's and sign Emily's signature at the bottom next to my own. I really didn't mind; in fact I enjoyed it, because it meant that Emily was free to spend more time with the girls, doing whatever she wanted and whatever they needed.

#

When the girls woke me up, via baby monitor, in the middle of a thursday night, I decided not to wake up Em for the first time. They had just eaten two hours ago, so they weren't hungry and more than likely, they just needed their diapers changed. So, keeping my eyes on Em as to not wake her up, I slid out of bed and padded down the hall to the nursery.

Flipping on the dimmed lights, I greeted them. "Hello, my darlings. How are you?"

They both whimpered and squirmed their replies.

"Who's first?" I glanced over at Vi, who had her face scrunched up in a wail. I leaned over and scooped her into my arms. "Good morning, Violet, don't you think you're a little early?" I teased.

I also picked up Hannah, tucking her into my other arm. "You too, Hannah. It's early, and mommy is still sleeping."

I attempted to fold my large frame into the rocking chair, but that just wasn't working, so after a quick diaper change, we settled into the living room couch. I laid on my back, and both of them wriggled on my stomach. Every once in a while, I would make eye contact with one of them, and they would grin and gurgle.

It was as I noted the way I could see myself in their features that it hit me.

For years, I had waited for confirmation that I wasn't a monster – that I still had good behind the claws of a creature who would maul his beloved. After years of waiting for an absolution, I had found it in the best way possible. My little girls, who were at least half mine, were entirely good. They were angels – and I had to have good in me to have given it to them. By calling myself a monster, I was degrading them and I couldn't allow that to happen.

As I pressed warm, gentle kisses to their drooping eyelids I heard the quiet shuffling of Emily's slippers on the carpet. I looked up to see her moving to stand over the back of the couch.

"mmmhnn…" she groaned, as she leaned over to press a kiss to my lips and the tops of the girl's heads. "Hey."

"Morning, baby," I whispered.

"You didn't wake me up," she complained – half-heartedly.

I assured her that I could handle a little diaper changing on my own, and I moved over on the couch to allow her to sit down as well. I handed over Hannah, and we sat together on the couch, all four of us, until the girls had snuggled into the corners of our arms and fallen asleep. Emily looked at our daughters, and then leaned to put her head on my shoulder.

"I love you, Sam," she sighed, sleepy and contented. Em began to hum a quiet lullaby under her breath, tracing a finger over Hannah's round belly.

I watched the reflection of our little family in the dark windows, in awe of my blessings. "Love you, too," I responded.

____

* * *

_fin_

_I want to thank all of you who are still reading for being so INCREDIBLY understanding through all of my unannounced breaks and needed personal time. I will be posting an future-take, and that will be it. If you enjoyed this story, please leave me a review and check out my other stories and one-shots. _


	11. Futuretake: Portrait of the Newlyweds

The bills were piling up. Literally. On his way to the site this morning, making yet another delivery of fertilizer to the good townspeople of Forks who felt that perfect landscaping was worth a shitload of money and a was necessity of life, Sam stopped by the post office.

Muttering some unintelligible string of curses under his breath as he flipped through the pile, Sam tried to remember how many overdue bills there were sitting on the counter at home. He was, admittedly, the one who had encouraged Emily to quit her job and stay home with the girls. Better than day care with someone they didn't know right? He tugged on the ends of his hair.

He had no idea how much money it would take to raise these kids, to support Emily. Sure, they had budgeted, and made lists, but when Violet suddenly woke up with a fever just over 100°, and the kids down the street were home with the flu, he didn't take any chances. Emily stayed home – watching Hannah like a hawk – and Sam had rushed Violet to the Forks ER, where he knew he was likely to find the best doctor around. Sure enough, Dr. Vamp was there, and Sam could relax. But peace and health came at a high price, and the lawn care job didn't exactly have prime health care benefits. They had already maxed out one credit card, and were well on their way to doing the same with the next one.

But he could have handled it if it were just money problems. Instead, he had Jared and Paul at his throat, because the news had come out that he was considering stepping down as Alpha. There wasn't a whole lot of need to have an Alpha anymore, what with the royal bloodsuckers deterred and all, but they still had the tradition. If Sam stepped down – stopped phasing – Jake would become Alpha of both packs again. While most of the animosity had died down since Jake had imprinted on Nessie, Paul and Jared were still fiercely loyal to Sam, and threatened to leave the pack as well. Sam didn't want to cause the destruction of the entire family, he just wanted to spend time with his girls, and age with his wife.

On top of that, he wasn't sleeping. Neither, of course, was Emily, but she didn't have to go to work in the morning. The girls had recently decided that they didn't like their sleep schedule, and were going to rebel.

He sighed.

Work.

As much as he hated it, they needed some source of meager income. The bills were piling up.

And we were back to square one.

#

Sam spent the day in the sticky air of the coast, aerating the yard of a person who could afford it. He wished they could see his lawn. Covered in large patched of dirt from where the boys liked to park their cars on the lawn. The flowers Emily had planted in the spring had long since died, and left unsightly patches of dead greenery all along the front of the porch. He couldn't have cared less. With twins – who were constantly wanting to be held, fed, or were crying – he and Emily didn't have time for sex, let alone yard work. It was one other thing that would just have to wait.

Thankfully, today was pay day and Sam stopped by the office before going home to pick up his check. He had pulled a lot of overtime this week in preparation for Christmas, which seemed like it was just around the corner. Still, he grimaced when he pulled out the check. $935. That was less than the credit card bill alone. Plus, the truck was empty again and diesel wasn't cheap these days. Sam sighed again, noticing how often he was whining lately. He tried not to complain around Emily, because he knew that she'd just insist on getting her job back, and then who would watch the twins? But, even then, he had plenty of time to complain when he was away from home.

As he pulled the truck into the driveway, he turned the engine off but left the doors shut. He needed a minute. Inhaling deeply, shaking the tension from his shoulders, and smiling wide, Sam slid off the seat and opened the front door of the house. "I'm home!" he called, shutting the door quickly and staying off the chill. Emily had a fire going in the living room, her fuzzy-socked covered feet propped up on the ottoman, the TV on mute in the background, and a baby attached to each breast. The whole house smelled like chocolate chip cookies.

"Hey," she replied softly, a smile turning up half of her mouth. "We missed you."

Making his way over to the couch quickly, Sam bent to press a kiss to Emily's scars and then her lips. She tasted like vanilla – leftovers, no doubt, from her baking excursion. He gently touched Violet's head, and then Hannah's, greeting them each individually. They cooed, content with their meal.

"Long day?" Emily inquired. "You look exhausted."

Sam nodded, and then, as cheerfully as possible, held up the pay check. "But it was pay day."

Emily laughed, and then pointed to the counter. "I made you cookies."

He hurried over to the counter and proceeded to shove a few in his mouth. The chocolate was still melted, she had timed them up with his arrival. "God, I love you," he groaned.

She chuckled, warm and glowing, so much like a mother already. "I'm glad. Dinner's in the oven, almost ready."

Sam, taking another handful of cookies, plopped down on the couch beside her. Hannah was finishing up, and Emily passed her over to Sam. He burped Hannah and she burped Violet, while they turned up the volume at watched the news. Pretty soon, his hand found hers on the couch, and he squeezed her fingers.

#

Eventually the show ended, and they put the girls in swings to nap during dinner. Sam pulled Emily in for one more kiss before they sat down and ate, discussing the ins and outs of their days. It was nothing out the ordinary, nothing exciting, nothing strange. Just them, together. A family.

It wasn't until he sat down at the table with the checkbook and the receipts, while Emily gave the twins a bath in the tub they put over the sink that he realized it. This was a marriage; it wasn't easy and it wasn't always fun. There wasn't always – okay, hardly ever – good sex, and more often than not, the babies cried just as you had fallen asleep. But when he came home, tired and fed up, Emily was there with their children, and she had been thinking of him. They supported each other, and they were going to make this work. Whether through overtime or chocolate chips cookies, they were working for the other.

Sam dropped the pen and went and stood behind Emily at the kitchen sink. "Need some help?"

Looking back over her shoulder to see his face, she handed him a washcloth. "Always," she joked. "And after, we can work on those bills."

"Sounds good," he said, lathering up Violet's pudgy tummy.

Emily held out one soapy hand for a fist bump, and Sam, throwing his head back with laughter, met it with one of his own, their rings meeting in the middle and sending suds and bubbles flying.


End file.
